


Love has a Learning Curve

by Scotch



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, FrostIron - Freeform, Humor, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, M/M, Mpreg, Snarky Tony, Stupidity, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scotch/pseuds/Scotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always dread the day some random woman whose name I don't even know is going to come harassing me for child support and actually manage to pass a paternity test. What I didn't expect was that I'd be the one getting knocked up. It would be so easy to blame Loki, but he's a wreck and I'm not that that much of a jerk. Well, mostly. What have I gotten myself into now...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I will never live this down.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing!
> 
> Movie verse, might have some vague comic verse references. Kind of AU seeing as this creates a whole new scenario for the end of the Avengers, and none of the others movies past it ever happened. I'd say more but it would spoil this whole chapter.
> 
> Basically this whole story is a pile of absolutely disgusting cavity inducing fluff and feels.
> 
> And another disclaimer: I'm not a doctor and everything I know about pregnancy is from the internet. 
> 
> Also an experiment in a different writing style than what I normally do.
> 
> This is being Beta'd by glittergirl73 over on fanfiction.net

"Brucey baby, are you busy right now? I really need a professional medical opinion on something." I chatter into my phone. It's idiotic really. I shouldn't even be entertaining the possibility and yet...

Damn it, Natasha! I could kill her for this…well, maybe. I think we all know who would win that fight, and it wouldn't be me. Where does she even hide all those weapons in that cat suit? Actually, I totally do not want to know the answer to that. Nope.

I know she was joking when she made the comment, but it planted a seed of doubt in my subconscious that's taken root and won't let go. My paranoia just can't help itself from running wild with it; that's just how my mind works.

"I guess I can reschedule the meeting I have later. Is something wrong? Are you sick? Did you blow up something in your workshop again?" Comes Bruce's reply. I fidget uncomfortably in my chair and run my fingers across my neatly trimmed goatee. At least alone in the shop, no one can see the beginnings of an epic panic attack that has nothing to do with my raging post-traumatic stress, or the utter shame that I am even having this completely ridiculous conversation at all.

"Bruce, are you sitting down?" I mumble awkwardly, thinking to myself that in some alternate universe this whole thing is just _not_ happening. It can't be happening. I'm not the kind of person that has a thing for denial, but this is just... ugh! Fucking unbelievable…

"Yes, why?" Bruce answers impatiently. I know he's probably busy. He has been working like an animal for a small state run clinic that helps the homeless and those left destitute after the Chitauri's attack, free of charge. In many ways, humans are arrogant and selfish creatures, but damn if we don't stick together when it actually matters. Well, not Bruce. He's always like that - selfless to a fault. The guy should totally be nominate for sainthood or something.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "I think I'm pregnant." I choke out, and want to bang my head on the metal table in front of me as hard as I can. I mean, I want to yeah, but it wouldn't be worth the loss of valuable brain cells. Still, _pregnant_? Last I checked, I do _not_ have a man-gina.

"Tell me you're joking." Bruce says incredulously.

"Reindeer Games thinks I'm a paranoid idiot. I think I'm up the duff." I snap in an irritable tone.

Loki. Nothing is _ever_ easy with him, and I think he _likes_ it that way. He's like the worst (best?) troll that's ever trolled. Seriously, one does not simply out-troll Loki; believe me, I've tried – extensively. I've even gotten Jarvis and Clint in on it a few times.

Anyway...

When he finds about this... Blow me. What did I get myself into this time? I hate magic. Damn space vikings and their voodoo…

You know what? – hold up. This is making no sense, and I'm rambling like a retarded squirrel with ADD. ...Though I've never really known how to shut the fuck up. But hey – I'm perfect otherwise so I've got to have some kind personality flaw, am I right?

Let's just start from the beginning, because that's what _normal_ people do.

* * *

All right, hi there, I'm Tony Stark. You know who I am. If you don't, I have no idea where the shit you've been because even the guys hiding in spider holes in the middle east know who I am. The part you probably _don't_ know is how I ended up in a relationship with a slightly psychotic demigod with a penchant for dramatics and a mischievous streak a mile long. Not that we'd really call it a relationship. It's more like 99.9% sex with the occasional interruption of witty banter.

Well, it's a long story – all right, not really, but we're pretty sure it started a month ago the moment we launched into that stupid pissing contest in my penthouse when I was trying to stall him.

You know that story too, I'm sure. SHIELD seized my surveillance videos, and it's _still_ all over the internet and the news. You'd have to be blind to not see the way we looked at each other. Love at first sight is an idiotic notion. Lust at first sight on the other hand, is totally a thing; and it sucked us both in like a supercharged magnet – and I'm not even gay…

…Or I wasn't, anyway.

However, the part that counts wasn't the verbal sparring about a green rage monster and erectile dysfunction.

It was what happened afterward that changed everything.

The last thing on the footage before the system took a crap was Loki grabbing me by the throat and throwing me through the window. Yeah… that _sucked,_ but the thing most people don't know was that Loki did that to _protect_ me.

I was too busy being an arrogant asshat to notice the Chitauri ship flying straight for the tower. Loki, however, did; and was well aware that I was just keeping him busy while I got my other suit ready. He made a split second decision that saved my life. It wasn't much of a chance, but if I'd stayed in the lounge I'd be dead for sure. Just as Loki let go of me, and I felt myself spiraling to what I thought was certain death, the ship crashed into the upper levels of the tower and decimated my lounge.

Of course, I thought he was trying to kill me – until I saw him fucking the Chitauri's day like there was no tomorrow.

I like to think I'm a perceptive person when it comes to reading people, and the sense I got when I was alone with Loki was that he didn't _want_ this. He wasn't really trying. If anything, it seemed like he was being used – like someone had coerced him into this, and he was doing his damnedest to find an out.

As usual, I was right, and something I said must have struck a chord with Loki because he turned on the Chitauri in an instant.

"Stark!" he yelled, kicking one of the nasty reptilian things off the edge of my balcony. "I cannot close the portal! It really _is_ too late for that!" I swore to myself and just tried my best to thin out the herd; that was when Fury told me about the nuke. Well, that was all over the news too.

"Listen up there, Rock of Ages, you'd better find a way. Don't forget it's all on you if this goes tits up. No one's going to care if you switched sides if they're all dead." I told him and went to chase after a nuke, and I knew right where to put it.

What happened after that is kind of a blur to me. ...Other than throwing the nuke through the portal at the Chitauri's mother ship, anyway. All I can _actually_ remember is waking up from an epic blackout in an absolutely totaled suit with the Hulk, Thor and Loki standing around me. I felt like I got hit by a loaded dump truck, and all of them looked like shit. Well, not that the entire city of New York didn't look like a heap of shit what with bodies and debris strewn all over the place amidst wrecked buildings.

"Idiot mortal..." Loki grumbled and passed out cold, falling to the ground with a thud like some kind of limp rag doll. Somehow that obnoxious horny helmet stayed on his head when he hit the pavement.

"Brother!" Thor shouted like a lovesick puppy, and he was at Loki's side in an instant.

"Calm down, Thor. Loki did say it would take most of his energy to save Tony and not to worry if he lost consciousness." That was Steve. I struggled to sit up, but couldn't move much as the suit was too damaged to function. I wondered if I'd been caught in the explosion.

"What the fuck happened?" I asked, managing to strip one of the gauntlets off to get at the suit's manual releases.

"When you threw the nuke through the portal, the explosion blew you off course and knocked you out. You didn't make it back through before it closed, but Loki was able to use some kind of magic to teleport you here and heal your injuries from the blast." Steve explained as he rushed to help me out of the suit. Well, he tried at least. Technology still isn't the Capcicle's friend.

"Hulk sorry for smashing puny god. Much sorry." The hulk added and gently prodded Loki's unconscious form with his foot – gently meaning that he nudged him hard enough to roll him over onto his back. Loki came awake with a startled gasp.

"Oh yeah, the hulk redecorated your penthouse floor with Loki's face. We're thinking of petitioning Fury to let that be more than enough punishment for killing those SHIELD agents because... _damn._ " Steve added. I raised my eyebrows and glanced at Loki who looked he got into a cat fight with a meat grinder and lost, _badly_. He was obviously healing at an accelerated rate, but if he had half the physical endurance of Thor then I totally agreed with Steve's totally uncharacteristic swearing. He was holding his head in his hands like he had an epic migraine, which was not at all helped by Thor who hauled him to his feet and gave him the world's most bone crushing bro-hug.

Poor sod.

"So, awesome. The world is safe, we won, and I'm not dead. Cool. I think this calls for a victory feast. Any of you ever had shawarma? I hear there's a new place in town and it's pretty tasty..."

As for how Loki and I ended up in bed together... that gets a little complicated, and maybe not even relevant considering we totally have _no_ relationship whatsoever. It really is just the sex, and it started out like any other conquest I've made – with alcohol and a mutual purely physical attraction.

The thing that was different was that he was still there in the morning – _is_ still there in the morning… every morning. Not that there is any of that awkward morning after crap. We just get up, pretend it never happened, and go about our business until the next night when we do it all over again. I doubt he'd even know what's keeping us together-ish. Aside from the mind blowing sex, I mean.

I don't do feelings, and neither does Loki. So, it's probably a good thing that it's our dirty little secret – for now, anyway. I have a nasty feeling the metaphorical shit is about to hit the fan and splatter all over everything I take for granted.

...Which brings us back to where we were before. Well, sort of.

* * *

I wake up to the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows of one of the guest rooms in the lower floors of Stark Tower. It annoys me to no end. The penthouse is still being rebuilt, so I have neither Jarvis to give me the morning report, or my computerized tinted glass to keep the sun out so I can sleep until noon after an all-nighter in the workshop.

Loki is fast asleep beside me with his face nuzzled into my pillow so that I can feel his breath on my cheek. I smile at him fondly, thinking that it's damn scary how he ended up on our side when he could have so easily refused. He's all creamy skin, soft angles, and everything about him is just pure sin. I reach over to run my fingers through those soft raven locks of hair curled around his face, but I hesitate as I become aware of two things simultaneously.

One: I have about three point seven seconds to get to a toilet or Loki is going to wake up covered in vomit.

Two: I am absolutely _not_ going to make it with the sheets tangled around me the way they are.

I make it – somehow. I cling to the porcelain throne like my life depends on it, while I fall to my knees and very nearly miss as the contents of my stomach decide they want out. My first thought is pretty obvious: hangover. I'm used to this, but it is also the fourth day in a row I've woken up puking my guts out. I also haven't been an alcoholic in years. Sure, I still drink, but not like I used to. I'd rather die during a BDSM skit gone wrong, or saving some kid from a burning building than liver failure. That would just be lame.

I hear Loki get out of bed and pad quietly to the open bathroom door through my retching.

"Stark? Are you ill again? Perhaps you should see a healer." The demigod drawls, obviously staring at me with concern masked as cold indifference.

A healer? Who the fuck says that?

One thing I learned really fast about Loki is that he is actually a very kind, selfless person. He just hides it damn well. He _hates_ to be seen as vulnerable in any way. The same thing could be said about me, even if I'm mostly aware that I'm just a jackass most of the time. Hey, at least I admit it.

I make a motion with my hand indicating for Loki to leave me alone, which he does.

When I finish heaving my brains out, I wander down to the floor we, meaning the Avengers (who all pretty much live in Stark Tower now), are using as kind of a lounge. It didn't take long for us to develop this little ritual of meeting up for meals and just hanging out there when nothing is going on. It was originally a break room for the Stark Industries employees that work on the lower floors. It's equipped with a decent kitchen, a small bathroom, some couches, a TV, and a round table big enough for all of us to crowd around.

I sit down at the table next to Natasha who is reading the day's copy of the _Times_. The invasion is still headline news. It's like 9/11 all over again. It's kind of sad that it takes tragedy and a staggering death toll for humans to remember how to work together and help each other out.

"Morning, Tony." Natasha says blankly. I just grunt and hold my head in my hands. I didn't wake up with a headache, but ralphing for nearly an hour straight will do that.

"Coffee?" Steve asks and slides a mug of the steaming liquid across the table to me. I am about to tell him he is a saint before the scent, or I should say _stench,_ of the coffee hits my nose. I clap my hand over my mouth and try to breathe as the nausea returns in full force.

Natasha watches me curiously with narrowed eyes. Steve is in his own little world, flipping pancakes on the stove behind the breakfast bar and doesn't notice. I probably would have made some kind of inappropriate housewife joke about the fact that he's wearing an apron, if I wasn't already halfway to the bathroom.

Loki doesn't notice either, he is on one of the couches with a PS3 controller in his hands kicking Clint's ass in _Need For Speed_. The archer, obviously, is preoccupied as well and is perched like a bird on the edge of the large armchair as he concentrates on the game.

I spend a good twenty minutes dry heaving before I shamble back into the room and curl up pitifully on the unoccupied couch – fully aware that they all heard me retching.

"What's wrong with you? Did Steve piss in your coffee or something?" Clint asks, smirking as he _finally_ not only passes Loki but runs his green mustang straight into a median. Loki swears creatively and tries uselessly to catch up.

"Must be a bug." I say nonchalantly.

"This is the fourth day in a row that you have been ill." Loki observes, not taking his eyes off the screen. I kind of want to kick him, knowing the others will be leery as to why he knows and they don't. Talking my way out of that one is going to suck.

"Really, the fourth day? Are you pregnant or something, Stark?" Natasha says sarcastically. "I have to wonder after you ate the entire container of mint ice cream the other day, even though you were adamant that you hate mint."

"Yeah, and didn't you say you don't like Oreos? I totally saw you scarf that whole pack yesterday." Clint adds, snickering.

"Ah, having strange cravings are you?" Loki quips, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"When did you have your period last?" Natasha says giggling. I kind of agree with Steve's exasperated sigh at that particular comment.

"I hate you all." I groan, and decide to head for the solitude of my workshop. "Maybe I _should_ call Bruce, though."

"You are not serious, are you? You are male, you paranoid moron." Loki says, rolling his eyes.

"I meant that maybe _something_ is wrong with me, idiot. Not that. I don't have a vagina." I hiss. Loki just smirks.

Fucking Natasha. It's her fault. She started it this time.

All the way down to the workshop (I have to take the stairs because the elevator is being repaired) I can't get it out of my head that maybe she's on to something. I have been gaining weight, though arguably that could be attributed to eating junk food like a fiend. ...Junk food that I normally don't like yet suddenly have a mindless craving for. I'm also moody as hell. Bruce had commented on that yesterday after I yelled at him for touching something in my shop, which I usually don't care about.

All of which are symptoms of pregnancy, when you add in the nausea.

...Well, in a _female_.

This is pathetic. I'm curled up in the fetal position in the chair in my workshop, feeling like a total retard while I wonder what the hell to occupy myself with until Bruce shows up sometime tonight.

I am being such a fucking idiot.

I will never live this down when Bruce tells me I have the stomach flu, or some other dumbass thing.


	2. How one mistake changed two lives (and created a third).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to glittergirl73 over on ff.net for the title for this chapter. :3

"I swear to God, Tony, if you're screwing with me..." Bruce complains, glaring at me when we finally meet up on the general medical floor in Stark Tower. Honestly, I don't know why the tower has a whole medical and imaging suite that spans four floors. Pepper and the board had insisted on it, something about it costing less than having to pay worker's comp claims when someone in R&D blows themselves up with a repulsor prototype. I guess in the long-run it might actually make a difference. Although, it's looking like a good idea now because this is horrifying enough without SHIELD sticking their nose in it, or – God forbid – having to ask my primary physician about this shit.

I can't even imagine how I'll survive if the press gets a hold of this...

"I'm not. I mean, okay so I might be overreacting, but, yeah, all the symptoms are there." I whine, looking up at him from the examination table I'm sitting on.

"Tell me." Bruce says with a sigh and pulls a notepad and pen out of the pocket of his somewhat shabby lab coat. I'll have to have Jarvis order him a whole new wardrobe after this. God knows the man deserves that much at the least for putting up with my shit all the time.

I don't do shame – it's hardly even in my vocabulary – but something about the glare Bruce is giving me just makes me want to die. I look anywhere but at him as I rattle off the list of symptoms: "Weight gain, nausea, sometimes stomach cramps, mood swings, weird ass junk food cravings." I answer flatly and watch as Bruce jots down notes and taps the end of his pen against the notepad as he thinks about what I told him. The only thought in my mind is that if he actually has to think about it, it's probably a bad sign.

"When did it start?"

"About four days ago." I tell him, drumming my fingers on the metal exam table.

"...So, about a month ago you would have had the intercourse that may have conceived this child? Well, assuming the other tests that we'll do in a bit show up positive." Bruce inquires, watching me carefully and obviously noticing the way I squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I suppose that's possible. The first time was the night after the invasion. So, like a month and a half ago." I recall, trying not to think too much about the feeling of Loki's hands on my skin and his lips on mine when he'd somehow managed talk me into being the bottom...not that it had taken much convincing – curiosity and all that. I'm completely open-minded to trying anything where sex is concerned, and I was anything but disappointed.

Whatever the case, it would have to be that first time considering the only other time I bottomed was like a week ago.

Bruce just shakes his head, obviously biting back a comment about post-traumatic comfort sex or some other BS.

"I'll have you try a regular pregnancy test, and then we'll do a blood test to check your hormone levels because I'm not sure if the pregnancy test can be trusted as accurate since you're male. If either test shows up positive, we'll conduct an ultrasound in the morning." Bruce explains, handing me a plastic cup and pointing in the direction of the bathroom.

Of all the times I've had to piss in a cup to prove that I have not, in fact, dropped acid (or any other kind of drugs) since I was 17, I never imagined I'd be taking a fucking pregnancy test. You know, assuming it will even yield accurate results considering my distinct lack of vagina. Regardless, I don't think I've ever been this nervous about something either.

Except maybe that time I thought I was dying, but we are totally not touching that can of worms right now. This is just as bad, if not worse.

I hold my breath and watch over Bruce's shoulder as he pulls on a pair of latex gloves and dips a test strip into the cup on the counter. It turns a dark shade of blue. He blinks, looking confused, and he tries again, getting the same result. He dips a third one in and it comes out exactly the same.

"Well, what's the diagnosis since I'm assuming that's not regular PH test paper?" I ask nervously.

The look he gives me says it all, really. Oh man, I am so fucked it's not even funny.

"It's showing a positive result but, like I said, that could mean anything given that you're male." Bruce explains. "Let's try for a blood test, sit down."

Trying not to panic, I pull myself back up onto the exam table and hold my arm out for Bruce. I wince and look away as he draws the blood.

I fucking hate needles. You'd think being a grown ass man with a miniaturized arc reactor implanted in the middle of your chest would desensitize you to things like this, but no. I have the worst feeling this won't be the last of them either if this shit storm doesn't just blow over. Right about now I'm actually kind of hoping I did waste Bruce's time, because I am going to be in such deep shit. Can you imagine me raising a kid?

Please.

I can't even keep plants alive.

 _Please_ let it be food poisoning. Come to think of it, that Thai food the other night was kind of sketchy... Yeah, I can go with that for now. It'll help slow the panic at least.

"This is going to take a few hours to process, so you might want to go do something else for a while." Bruce suggests.

I can do that, I guess. Granted I'd rather be there the second he gets the results. But I know myself well enough to know I'll just be in the way. I'm an engineer, not a biochemist. Though give me an hour and I'll have the basics down, probably. What? I _am_ a genius.

"Have Jarvis tell me the second you get the results, Big Guy." I tell my AI, and then absolutely _do not_ skitter away from the med lab like a little kid that doesn't want to be prodded at anymore. Seriously, give me a sticker and a lollipop and we'll be good here.

* * *

I find myself in my workshop, actively avoiding like twenty calls from Pepper and the rest of the world in general. I'm good at that – running away from my problems…the personal ones anyway. They're the ones that are actually scary. The bad guys and power hungry aliens I can deal with. Pepper and our wreckage of a relationship and kind of rocky friendship, on the other hand, is not something I can deal with right now.

I'm not actually getting any work done. I basically sit there dicking around with the same piece of circuit board for about two hours before Jarvis announces a security breach in the lab.

Loki. He's the only one that can get by Jarvis. I'm still not sure that's such a good thing, but like hell if I'll admit it to anyone that a space viking who can't even operate the damn toaster knows how to fuck with my AI.

I swallow past the lump in my throat as I watch him approach, wearing my spare work jeans and one of my Black Sabbath shirts. Seeing him in my clothes is normal – even for the rest of the gang. Giving him some of mine and Steve's shit was better than enduring a shopping trip. With my luck he'll come out of the store with women's underwear and stiletto heels. We're all in agreement on that.

"Are you coming to bed?" Loki asks, raising his eyebrows.

"It's not that late." I grumble, pretending to work on the useless piece of circuit board. "I'm working."

"No, you are panicking and I am still trying to fathom the reasoning behind that; unless, it has to do with that utterly moronic conversation this morning. Also, it is nearly half past midnight." Loki drawls and leans against the counter beside me.

I completely ignore him – until he runs his hand along my thigh and rests it on my hip.

"I will get this nonsense off your mind." He purrs in my ear and kisses my cheek.

"It's not that! Jesus fucking Christ! Listen, I just want to -"

"Sir, Doctor Banner is requesting your presence in the Medical Lab." Jarvis cuts in. Loki glances at me curiously as the color drains from my face. If it really is freaking midnight like Loki said, there was no way Bruce would ask me to drag my ass down there just to tell me the tests were inconclusive. He'd just have Jarvis tell me, or say we'll discuss it in the morning.

No, it's positive, definitely, either that or I'm dying again. I'm not sure which option is worse.

"Stark?" Loki asks, prodding my shoulder. "What is this about?"

"I'll tell you in the morning. Just go to bed. I'll be there shortly." I tell him and make a beeline for the stairs. I can feel Loki scrutinizing me as I go.

I wanted to tell him to come with me, since it kind of concerns him, and maybe I'd feel a little better with him there. At the same time, that's one hell of a bomb to drop in his lap. I would prefer to be absolutely certain before that conversation happens. After all, there's no telling how he'll react.

What if Bambi wants nothing to do with it? It's not like I'd go after him for child support, God knows I'm rich enough to not care about that. The thing is, I'm terrified to think that I'll have to go through this alone. Sure, the others will help me out, but, I can't exactly cuddle up to them and cry on their shoulders. ...Not that I think I could even get away with that with Loki either.

Like I said, there's no pretense of a relationship – it's just sex. It's naïve at best to hope for any kind of comfort or support from him in this.

I guess this is how it feels to be a girl that made a tiny mistake that fucked her whole life up. I kind of feel like the world's biggest dick now for how I've handled the girls that have come to me accusing me of fathering their unborn spawn. Regardless of circumstances, finding myself in this situation is a lot scarier than I ever thought – and I'm not even talking about finances and shit. I mean... things like moral support.

I kind of want to cry, but I am totally not going to get away with that.

* * *

"You called, honey?" I say to Bruce, unable to keep the nervous quiver out of my voice.

"Sit." He says and points at the exam table while he pours over a couple sheets of paper he's holding. Trying to slow my pounding heart, I heave myself onto the table.

"Well?" I ask impatiently as he takes a seat in the chair near me and sighs.

"Blood tests don't lie." Bruce says simply. "Your hormone levels are right where they should be – for a women in her first trimester anyway."

"...Meaning?"

"I'm not sure whether I should say 'congratulations' or 'I'm sorry', but Tony, you're definitely pregnant. The only other option is cancer, and we both know you don't have cancer." Bruce explains and looks up at me in a combination of mindless curiosity and total disbelief.

Well, fuck.

I just sort of open and close my mouth a few times before I finally find the words.

"What now?" I rasp, gripping the edge of the exam table so hard that my knuckles turn white.

"Well, I can keep an eye on you, and we can get through this somehow. The actual birth will have to be through a c-section; or, you could have an abortion, which will also probably require surgery. Either way, we're going to have to do an ultrasound tomorrow so we know what we're looking at, because I have no idea what's going on inside of you." Bruce tells me. "Tony, I don't want to pry, but is there anything, er, _unusual_ I should know about the father that might have caused this?"

"I am absolutely not having an abortion unless it's not healthy or a risk to my own health. That just isn't fair to the kid, regardless of circumstances…and the father…well..." I look at my feet and frown. "...Is Loki."

I guess this what I get for fucking an alien. At least he's hot as hell. ...Still can't say if it was worth it or not, though.

Bruce blinks several times and pinches the bridge of his nose. He'll never call me an idiot, but if ever there was a time he was thinking it, it's now.

"If you can manage to discuss this civilly with him, bring him here first thing in the morning. I have some questions for him – entirely medical ones. I neither want to know, nor do I care about how you wound up sleeping with him." Bruce tells me calmly.

"You need to go to bed. We will discuss proper eating and sleeping habits that you will _need_ to adhere to in the morning. For now, get as much rest as you can. Telling everyone else about this is your problem, and I would suggest sooner rather than later. They _will_ notice."

* * *

"Loki? Are you awake? We need to talk." I blurt out, stumbling over the words as I finally drag myself back to my – our – room.

He rolls over in the bed and looks up at me blearily.

"What is it, Stark?" Trembling, I sit on the bed. "Anthony?"

Rehearsing this in my head was so much easier than trying to actually say it to the demigod wrapped up in my blankets giving me the evil eye for waking him up.

"Listen, I'm not trying to extort you or – I don't know, but I really need your help to deal with this so please don't be a dick about it." I ramble, only freaking myself out more as the words come out.

I need to calm down. Panicking isn't going to help.

"What are you going on about now?" Loki gripes. Our eyes meet for a moment, and I fight back tears.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I don't fucking cry. This is scary and depressing, yeah, but not something I'd _cry_ over. Not yet anyway.

 _Hormones. Mood Swings_.

Oh, right.

That's why.

"Loki, I'm pregnant." I say quickly and bury my face in my hands.

There is no response. It's like his silver tongue turns to lead in his mouth.

He just blinks and stares at me.

"I do not find this jest tasteful in the slightest." He finally mutters. "Now go to sleep."

"Loki, I'm serious. I'm pregnant. What, are we back to Shakespeare in the park? I am...bearing the child conceived of your godly seed! Wow, that was lame even for me. Fuck Loki just...I don't know." I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. "Please help me."

Loki holds his silence.

Several moments pass, and just as I am about to give in and cry like a little girl, he finally speaks.

"...How?" He whispers, and when I look up his emerald eyes are wide in disbelief. Suddenly, his demeanor changes and he glares at me with his usual holier than thou attitude firmly in place.

"Stop sniveling. I am not entirely heartless, you infuriating mortal." Loki snaps, and before I know what's happening, he pulls me down to the bed and has his arms wrapped around my waist and my face tucked under his chin.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

...Well, that's my first reaction anyway, because Loki doesn't do cuddling. We sleep together, sure, but on opposite sides of the bed. Sometimes I wake up snuggled up to him, but just like the sex, we kind of pretend it doesn't happen.

Is he really trying to _comfort_ me?

Maybe not, because Loki reacts like he's made a huge mistake and lets go of me. "I apologize." He says awkwardly.

"For what, exactly?" I ask, confused and missing the warmth of him pressed against me.

"I forgot that you prefer not to be touched in such a manner." Loki replies blankly.

When the fuck did I ever say that? Did I even say it or...

"If it is not the case, then why do you always push me away and avoid any kind of conversation about our involvement like a swarm of plagued rats? Are you ashamed of it…of me? Is this why you asked me to keep it a secret from your companions?" Loki continues with a kicked puppy expression almost as perfect as his brother's.

Damn.

I am _such_ an asshole, and the worst part is, half the time I don't even realize I'm hurting someone until it's too late...like Pepper. I am officially the world's biggest egotistical dick. I really do forget sometimes that no, Tony, the world does not indeed revolve around you.

"You're going to have to learn to ignore me, Buttercup – forces of habit. It's hard for me to trust people, to put it mildly, and they'll all know after tomorrow anyway. Bruce wants to talk to you about this, and... I'm not ashamed of you. I'm just, well, afraid of how they'll react. You know, just think of Clint and Natasha and how they still feel about you if you don't get my drift." I ramble, wincing as I think of the Widow and Hawkeye myself.

They tolerate Loki, knowing that he did the right thing in the end, but are having a very understandably hard time forgiving him for the mind control thing. ...Oh, and then there was that time he basically called Natasha a cunt, albeit very politely. Steve, of course, forgave him instantly being the selfless person he is who sees the good in everyone. Bruce is still a little leery of him, but by far he's the most at ease around Loki – aside from me, anyway. Though arguably, I think Loki is scared shitless of him after the hulk incident – not that I blame him. I think the penthouse floor even feels a little bad for him after that whole episode, and Thor...

Oh fuck. _Thor._

I am so fucking dead.

Somehow I just _know_ his little brother is off limits.

"It's okay, Loki. If you want to hold me, I mean…I'd appreciate it, and I will strangle you if you tell anyone I said that." I mumble sheepishly and curl back up beside him.

"I would like to see you try, Stark." Loki purrs and pulls me closer.

…and here I thought _he_ was the one acting like a prissy porcupine...


	3. Goodbye, Narnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that the weird mix of past/present tense I had going on with this was ungodly confusing (not to mention a bastardization of the English language), so I went back and edited the previous chapters. It's all present tense now. :3

Do you ever feel like the powers-that-be grabbed you by the balls and tossed you face-first into a pile of dog shit, and are watching you roll around in it while they laugh their asses off? Yeah. That's kind of how I feel right now. I mean, what gives? One moment everything's peachy, the next my entire life turns into an epic cluster fuck where nothing is as it seems; it'll never be the same again…Not that it's never happened before, my world being turned upside down. Honestly, I'm not sure if it was ever right again after the thing with the Ten Rings that spawned Iron Man.

Probably not. I guess I should get used to it. I _am_ pregnant with the demon offspring of the God of chaos and lies...Not that I'm not a little in denial because, seriously, I _do not_ have a vagina. Have I said that yet? I think so, but there it is again – for good measure.

Hey, maybe the gods toying with us is actually a thing. There's these goddesses Loki talks about every now and then called the Norns. Apparently they spin the threads in the tapestry of fate, or something like that. They must get their kicks from knocking up men and sending old ladies to Alcoholics Anonymous. Seriously, it sounds like they're the people that could have made Pokemon real, but were like: _'_ nope, have some cancer instead _'_ _._

I want their job, man. Fuck them.

Bruce said I need a lot of rest, but all I can see on the horizon is eight months of sleepless nights, and I can't even break out the Jack Daniels. I guess I _could_ _,_ but it's gotta take a special kind of heartless asshole to drink while pregnant.

"Sir, Doctor Banner would like to remind you that have an appointment this morning in the twelfth floor imaging suite, and he is on a tight schedule." Jarvis announces, cutting into my little pity party. "He would like to speak with Mr. Odinson as well."

" _Laufeyson."_ Loki growls, from where he's still half asleep and pressed against my back with one arm draped over my waist. "I am not Odin's son, nor that witless oaf's brother."

Jarvis, of course, doesn't reply but I'm willing to bet he'll still call him 'Odinson'.

"Let's just get this over with so I can go break the news to everyone – then crawl in a hole somewhere and die." I gripe sarcastically, slipping out of Loki's slack grip. At least I'm not puking my guts out this morning – yet.

* * *

"Why the fuck do we even _have_ an ultrasound machine? Is pregnancy a common side-effect of being exposed to arc reactor radiation? Is that something I should know about? You know, job hazards and all that. Pepper, _why_ do we have an ultrasound machine, and why the hell are you even here?" I chatter, avoiding the topic that actually matters like the container of week old Chinese take-out festering in the fridge. Pepper glares at me in a combination of disgust and exasperation as I sit down on the edge of the bed near the ultrasound machine.

"I'm here because Bruce told me about this mess of yours earlier this morning. Considering I'm still the CEO of your company and responsible for taking care of anything the Avengers need, I think I have a right to be here – especially since I'm the one who does your grocery shopping. I have no idea what to feed you for the next eight months. It's not like I know what you can and can't do when you're pregnant just because I'm a woman." Pepper snaps. "Also, stop being needlessly condescending. You know ultrasounds have other applications."

I hate to admit it, but she looks great. Her reddish hair is all done up in a neat bun, and she's wearing a cute little dress that she'd never have dared to wear working for me as a personal assistant. _God forbid_ someone thought she got her job because she was sucking my dick. Either way, she must be doing a lot better without me and our train wreck of a relationship. I'm kind of pissed that Agent (by 'Agent' I mean Phil because I still refuse to call him by his name) is trying to get in her pants, but it's not like I have any place to comment. I know I never deserved her, and I'll be _damned_ if I'm going to give up everything that makes me who I am to make her happy. I'm too selfish for that (of course there's other reasons like all the good I do as Iron Man, but the heart of the matter just comes right back to selfishness).

"Yeah, fine, but you don't need to be in the room for this. Jarvis can give you a full report later." I retort with a little more venom than entirely necessary.

It's myself that I'm angry at when it comes to our relationship failing, but with nothing else to project it onto, I can't help but lash out at other people. Usually it's Pepper and Bruce, but lately Loki's had to put up with my shit too, probably because I see the three of them most...Either that or they're the only ones crazy enough to hang around me when I'm in a shitty mood. Although, I feel a little bad for being such an ass to Loki now because he's really taking this like a champ.

_Maybe._

I think he's secretly a wreck on the inside and just doing the manly thing and being responsible for his actions...Even if he has no more of an idea how the fuck this happened than I do.

"Unfortunately, Miss Potts, Tony's right about that. You know, privacy rights..." Bruce tells Pepper with an apologetic smile. Pepper scoffs and storms to the now functioning elevator.

"On the topic of privacy rights, why does she know _at all_?" I whine and lean back on the bed. I stare at the ceiling pointedly as I hear Bruce sigh and sit on the edge of the bed beside me.

"I don't think Jarvis knows what the Hippocratic Oath is, because he was the one who said that you're pregnant specifically. I just told her that you would need to change your diet and work schedule due to an unforeseen medical condition." Bruce explains.

Once again, I am foiled by my own creation. Nothing new there.

"Well, before we do this, I wanted to ask you a few things if you don't mind, Loki." Bruce says to the demigod who is leaning against the wall beside me, wearing the same Black Sabbath shirt and jeans he had on last night – except now they were a little rumpled from him sleeping in them.

That probably should have been the first sign that he's not taking this as well it seems. Loki is downright anal about his appearance. He showers three times a day and has more hair care products than Pepper and Natasha combined. In other words, there's about a snowball's chance in hell of him being caught dead in wrinkly, slept-in clothes with his hair all frizzy.

"I will answer as best I can. Though, to my knowledge, this is not a normal occurrence for the Aesir or Jotnar. However, I confess I know very little of Jotunn physiology, and no male Aesir I have ever met would admit to being bedded by a man under pain of death. That is, of course, irrelevant as I am not one of the Aesir – biologically speaking, anyway." Loki explains, sounding bored, but I know him well enough to detect the hint of nerves in the tone of his voice.

"Do you have anyidea what might have caused something like this?" Bruce asks, and I finally look away from him to Loki who seems to be deep in thought.

"Bear in mind that this is merely a theory, but it could be some kind of side-effect from the magic that I used to save his life after he was sucked into the portal. What I did should not have even been possible by normal means, but perhaps his biology was altered because of it." Loki tries to tell us.

"What do you mean? What did you do?" I ask, glancing up at him. He suddenly looks very tired.

"Obviously, the first thing I did was teleport you back here; that should not have had any side effects save possible nausea, if you had been... Alive. The rest is where there is a bit of gray area, even with my knowledge of the arcane." Loki says with some trepidation.

"You were dead, actually – for about five minutes. I forced your soul back into you body, because it was not yet too late to do so...For a price, naturally. The cost, however, is no one's concern but mine. I said it should not have been possible, because I doubt any other sorcerer, god or otherwise, could wheedle Hela out of a soul. You should be thankful, I assume she probably had to bargain with a Valkyrie or two in order to return you to me."

I can only stare at him open-mouthed. Bruce takes his glasses off and polishes them on his shirt as a distraction from the fact that he obviously is at a loss. I can't blame him – the whole thing is pretty much shitting on the laws of medicine, physics, and mainstream religion all in one go. Still, a zombie chick (if I remember correctly) and a hot war maiden fighting over my soul? Yeah, that sounds about right. The great Tony Stark is always irresistible, apparently even when I'm dead.

I think hard about it before I finally have the balls to ask: "So how could that make me able to bear children? How exactly does someone come back from the dead?" Both Bruce and I pin our eyes on him as he answers.

"I do not know how it could have changed you; my mother might, or at least between the two of us, we may be able to arrive at a viable hypothesis. However, I have no way to speak to her as my probation does not allow me to leave this realm." Bruce and I somehow have the tact to let it go when Loki stops talking, obviously not willing to discuss the mechanics of divine resurrection – or whatever the fuck he did.

I feel like hearing this shit should bother me a little, but somehow it doesn't. I guess that magic, just like Loki, does whatever the hell it wants; and I probably gave up trying to understand it a while ago. I guess death doesn't scare me much anymore, considering some of the shit I've gotten into.

I sort of forgot about the fact that Loki isn't allowed to leave earth, or Midgard (whatever), until he makes amends to our people. I'm not sure how Odin thinks he's capable of making up for almost two thousand deaths and billions of dollars in property damage, but he is trying; I'll give him that. What's even more amazing is the fact that Fury and SHIELD are not only letting him, but _helping_ him. Then again, if Loki hadn't turned on the Chitauri I highly doubt anything could have stopped them.

"Can Thor ask her?" I can almost feel Loki tense up as Bruce suggests it.

"No." Loki says icily. "He would not understand the answer, much less the questions he would need to ask."

There's more to it, though. I can tell. He mentioned that it cost him something to save me, my guess would be that he doesn't want Thor to know what that is. I won't lie; that's freaking me out a bit. Loki's not the bad guy, I don't think, but he sure as hell isn't a hero. Not that I can judge, because I wouldn't call myself a hero either – not even by a stretch of the imagination.

"My mother." Loki repeats, obviously tired of the tedious conversation. "If Thor can bring her here, perhaps she could help. If there is anyone in Asgard who knows anything about Frost Giant physiology, it is her. That is, of course, assuming that my heritage even has anything at all to do with this. The only thing I know about the Jotnar is that many of them are shapeshifters and can bear children in a female form."

"We'll look into that, then." Bruce says. "For now, I really _am_ on a tight schedule, so let's get this over with. You can leave if you want, Loki." The trickster shakes his head and stands near me in a way that can only possibly be described as somewhere between protective and possessive, that clearly states his refusal to leave.

"What does that mean? That crap in the old Norse legends about you having monsters for kids is true?" I ask, eyes wide as Bruce sets up the ultrasound machine.

Loki has an odd, hurt look in his eyes when he answers. "Some of it."

I don't press the subject. Loki has a habit of doing what Loki wants, that includes not talking about something until either he's good and ready, or everyone has just plain forgotten about it. Sadly, it's usually the latter, but like I've said a hundred times already, Loki and I don't do the whole pity party and tedious emotional discussion thing. Maybe we should, though. I'm beginning to think that having someone to listen to his story, without judging him, might be enough to shake the crazy cats out of the bag for good.

The ultrasound completely destroys what little doubt there was to be had concerning my condition. Of course it's too early to really see much, but there's definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, a tiny person growing inside of me. Though, we're no closer to knowing how it got there – or how it would be possible for it to get out without surgery.

After leaving the Med lab, the morning sickness comes back in full force the second I step into the elevator with Bruce and Loki on the way to the lounge. Of course, I _just_ manage to make a beeline for the bathroom, painfully aware of everyone's eyes on me, and by everyone, I mean _everyone_ : Pepper, Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Steve are all gathered around the table having pancakes and coffee.

When did Thor came came back from fairyland anyway?

"So, what the hell was that about?" I hear Clint asking Bruce and Loki who made uneasy eye contact as I drag myself out of the bathroom after a rather vicious fit of dry heaves. Of course it was dry heaves, I can hardly look at food without without gagging. I clear my throat and wait until I have everyone's attention.

"Well, I guess this is where I say goodbye to Narnia, because I don't think I can pull off hiding in the closet anymore. I won't fit in there soon, anyway." I ramble and pull at the sleeve of the black button-down shirt I'm wearing distractedly. Clint snickers into his coffee and Natasha smacks him before giving me a look that's equal parts annoyance and concern. That's the thing about Natasha: nothing gets by her. _Ever._ It is entirely possible that she was partly serious when she'd started the whole joke about me being pregnant the morning before.

"What is this Narnia that you speak of, Man of Iron?" Thor asks, raising his eyebrows. It's Loki's turn to chuckle under his breath. The trickster has developed quite a love for classic literature, and for once, actually understood one of my random pop-culture references.

"Nevermind, Thor. You wouldn't get it anyway." I say sheepishly. "Well, the thing is... almost everyone in this room is going to know what I'm talking about so… I'll just say that Natasha's theory was right, and yeah... you can all talk about that while I -"...Run to the bathroom _again_ and curl up on the floor in front of the toilet as I debate whether morning sickness is shittier than a hangover.

The consensus is yes; it _is_ shittier than a hangover.

A lot shittier.

Hangovers tend to go away when there's nothing left to puke up. Well, mostly...Not so much after drinking enough scotch to kill an elephant. _Details_. Anyway...

When I come back out, everyone is standing around looking like somebody just died – except Bruce, who gently shoves me into the big squishy leather armchair in front of the TV, and thrusts a cup of tea into my hands. It reeks of mint. I wrinkle my nose and hold it at an arm's length. Bruce just rolls his eyes.

"I hate mint." I whine, immediately cursing myself as I recall Natasha catching me with the mint ice cream the other day. Which, if I remember right, was fucking delicious.

"Drink it slowly, it'll help with the nausea." Bruce elaborates, ignoring me. "I have to go. Tony is not to have more than one cup of coffee and absolutely no alcohol. Also, preferably no junk food, but if he can keep it down let it be for today."

Turning to me, he adds, "I'll have a proper list of food that's safe for you when I'm done at the clinic. I'll try to skate out early. Try to avoid stress and get plenty of rest, too."

With that, Bruce leaves us. I can't blame him for the swift exit, he's already half an hour late for his job at the clinic. I fidget a bit and take a sip of the tea as I try to ignore everyone's eyes practically burning holes into me. Steve is the first to make a sound, clearing his throat loudly.

"Pancakes, Tony?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah, sure. Worst case scenario pancakes have to taste better coming back up than mint ice cream and pickles, right?" I mutter. Thankfully, my sarcasm has its usual effect of breaking the tense atmosphere, and results in both Pepper and Thor snickering quietly. Thor would know, after the drinking contest we had when he got back from taking the Tesseract to Asgard. We even had a joke about whose hangover was shittier. Quality male bonding, that. I can't see Steve or Loki from where I'm sitting, but I can imagine them both rolling their eyes and shaking their heads in exasperation.

"Man of Iron, how did this come to be? As I recall Midgardian males cannot bear children." Thor asks and sits on the couch adjacent to me as he fixes me with a searching glance. Thor is by no means the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's terrifyingly perceptive.

"Uh, I have literally no idea, and neither does the father." I say, shrugging.

"Yeah, so, were you planning to enlighten us as to who that is?" Natasha inquires, sitting next to Thor. I can practically feel the tension in Loki's body as he comes to stand beside me and rests his hand on my shoulder.

"I am responsible for that." He says barely above a whisper. "Somehow."


	4. Something of a Revelation

The look on Clint's face is priceless as his coffee cup slips from his hand and falls to the ground with a thud, spilling its contents all over the carpet. It's kind of funny really, the way his eyes bulge from his head as he chokes like he swallowed a bug.

"You... _Idiot._ It's pretty obvious that you're at least kind of gay but... _Loki_?" The archer mutters and shakes his head. Natasha elbows him in the ribs and tells him to stop being an asshole under her breath. I could positively hug her for that right now. There's no denying that Nat is scary as hell when she wants to be, but she's also kind of like a kick-ass, overprotective big sister sometimes, too – for all of us.

"Okay, so I didn't see the pregnancy thing coming, but if you all didn't notice that they're fucking by now, you should be ashamed of yourselves. Though, I guess it helps that mine and Clint's bedroom is right below theirs. I doubt they could be any more obvious about it if they tried, unless they did it in the middle of the floor right in front of us." Natasha says, rolling her eyes.

"For you, dearest Lady Natasha, that can be arranged. I am rather proud of my work and do not mind displaying it in the slightest." Loki says, each word dripping with sarcasm. I can't help but let out a bark of laughter, even if it scares me a little because I have no doubt that Loki would make good on that suggestion. Honestly, I don't think he has a single shred of shame. He's worse than I am, and that's saying something.

I really wish I could see Steve's face. It must be redder than a tomato.

Nervously, I glance to Thor who thankfully looks more shocked than anything. He notices my eyes on him and breaks into his trademark sappy grin. "Why is everyone so glum? This is a joyous occasion, is it not? I am to be an uncle! Mother and Father will want to know as well! Surely they will be glad to finally be grandparents!" He booms and makes an attempt to hug Loki who, seeing it coming a mile away, teleports to the other side of the room. Even Steve laughs at Thor's staggering as he tries to embrace empty air, then he hands me a plate of his homemade pancakes and a cup of milk.

"No! Father mustn't know!" Loki says darkly with a clear sense of threat in his voice that changes the relaxed atmosphere of the room in an instant.

It's fear that I see, though. Fear of what, however, could be anyone's guess; but, I can imagine Loki will probably be in deep shit for this somehow (even if it is at least half my fault). It may have something to do with the way he reacted earlier when I asked him about the Norse myths that mentioned his brood of monster spawn – not that I know a whole lot about that. Mythology is pretty far down on the list of shit I care about. Either way, that can't be true…can it? There's no way Loki spawned a giant wolf, a half-dead chick, and a giant serpent. Although, he did mention Hela; he must have some kind of relationship with her to have been able to bargain for my soul. Maybe... hmm.

Interesting…

"But why, brother?" Thor asks, cocking his head to the side curiously. Why indeed, I wonder.

"Have you forgotten about what he did to Sleipnir?" Loki snarls, balling his hands into fists.

Sleipnir? Oh, right. Isn't that Odin's warhorse – the lord of all horses or something equally dramatic?

"You mean father's horse? The beast is rather spoiled as far as I know. Do you know of any other mere animal that is allowed to eat Idunn's golden apples?" Thor asks, smiling fondly.

Ah, there we go. See? Sometimes I remember pointless drivel from old fairy tales. So how does Odin's pet fit into this whole cluster fuck? Was Loki one of those kids that's like 'Daddy I want a pony!', and Daddy got himself a pony instead to be a douche? I don't know, Loki doesn't seem _that_ petty, even if Odin does. Granted, everything I know about the All-father is from Thor and Loki's stories, and unsurprisingly Thor's version is completely different from Loki's.

"Beast? Mere _animal_?!You... You cannot begin to – _Idiot!_ Perhaps if you knew some of the horrors that your father has unleashed upon me, then you would understand my hatred of him." Loki hisses and storms out of the room.

"Uh, so, what just happened there? Anyone?" I ask, frowning.

"I do not know, my friend." Thor says, looking as confused as I feel.

"Well, whatever. I have pancakes that need eating. Oh, and Reindeer Games wants to talk to his mom, can you bring her here, Thor?" I chatter, barely remembering that Loki's mother might know something about how to handle this mess. Thor glances at me warily and nods.

Well, that's taken care of at least. Now I guess I have a pissed-off demigod with PMS that rivals Pepper's to hunt down... Then I can attempt to sleep, but that should be pretty easy. All I have to do is ask Pepper how Stark Industries' stocks are doing. By the time she's done ranting about it, I'll be fast asleep. Anyone else who's left will flee the room to avoid having the pants bored right off them.

It never fails.

Plus it'll get rid of everyone else to give me some time to think.

"Hey Pep, how're the stocks doing with the new Starkphone on the market?" I ask, taking another sip of tea. Oddly, I kind of like it. It's cool and hot at the same time, and it's doing wonders for my stomach – which is currently trying to do another set of cartwheels. I don't even mind the taste, but I can't help thinking it would go well with...oh, no we're not going _there_. I eat enough weird shit as it is without indulging the cravings and mixing tuna with chocolate like my mother used to joke about whenever I pissed her off as a kid.

I guess I could kind of use her advice right now; too bad she would probably disown me.

"Huh? Quite well. I actually have a meeting to get to, so I'll fill you in later." Pepper says and makes a quick exit.

 _Damn_ , so much for that.

"We should go, too." Natasha said, poking a brooding Clint in the shoulder. "Fury will give himself an ulcer if we skip his little tea party this afternoon." Clint grumbled in annoyance, said a few choice words about Fury being an ass, and sulked after Natasha. I'm probably better off not knowing what Olaf One-Eye wants. Eh, I'll hack his mainframe later.

That leaves me with the Capcicle and the god of failed bro-hugs. Thor shifts uncomfortably on his feet and glances in my direction.

"I will see if I can bring my mother here, without my father becoming aware of the situation." He says and leaves – thankfully not the through the window for dramatics. I've had to repair that twice because I guess it's cool in Asgard to just hammer-fly through windows for shits and giggles. Stairs, _apparently_ , are for losers. Either way, I think my contractor probably hates the shit out of Thor and Loki both at this point. You know, with all the ruining of perfectly good windows that goes on around here...among other things.

"I suppose you're going to bail on us too, Mom?" I drawl at Steve who sits down on the couch across from me. Loki chooses that moment to reappear out of thin air and take a seat next to him, but as far away as physically possible while still being on the same piece of furniture. I tentatively take a bite of the pancakes when I'm pretty sure Captain Spangles won't be wearing them in two minutes. Loki's sudden entrance doesn't bother me; I'm pretty used to it by this point (if not a little a jealous, because teleportation is fucking awesome).

"Nope. Bruce actually cornered me last night and told me to stay here and keep an on eye on you. He wouldn't say why, just that you'd tell us in the morning." Steve says with a slight smirk. "Oh, and for the record, I wouldn't be calling anyone 'Mom' in your position." I can't help it, I laugh at that and Loki's lips also curl into a faint smile.

"Well, I hear pregnant chicks are annoying and moody as fuck. I have it on excellent authority that I'm beyond irritating and defiant on a good day, so I hope you're up for the job." I retort, rolling my eyes.

"Indeed, and when you finish eating, you will go rest or I will carry you to your room myself." Steve says sweetly with a hint of sarcasm. Hmm, I must be rubbing off on him. It's kind of adorable when Steve tries to be condescending. Too bad it doesn't happen all that often.

"I suppose it saves me from having to do it." Loki mutters reproachfully. "You _will_ take care of yourself, or I will do it for you. The Norns know you will not enjoy that, so I highly recommend that you do as you are told." He adds in a threatening tone that I know is mostly bullshit, but he obviously seems to genuinely care.

I just roll my eyes and stuff my mouth full of pancakes covered with strawberries and a dusting of powdered sugar. I prefer good old fashioned syrup, but am suddenly ravenous and could probably eat week old burger king and think it's goddamn delicious.

* * *

Good on his word, Loki very nearly dragged my ass back to the penthouse after I was done eating. He's sitting on the edge of my bed pretending to read _Hamlet_ while I pretend to sleep. The domesticity of it all is fucking hilarious, and I can't help but snicker to myself. Loki, of course, hears it, and snaps the book shut with an irritated sigh. It's not that I don't want to sleep, because I'm tired as fuck. The problem is that my mind is in overdrive, and I'm a mess of confused emotions. Loki's mostly the reason for that, though…in a good way.

I expected him to deny anything to do with this, or at least leave me to my own devices. His actual reaction is not at all what I was expecting, and I have this weird little suspicion that he's actually happy about this. Maybe he wants a child, or something. Either way, I imagined him throwing a hissy fit and stomping out of the room last night. Not this, I didn't anticipate the unmasked concern or him discarding his schedule for the day to stay by my side.

Speaking of his schedule, Fury will probably call and yell at him for not helping at the food bank or telling stories to sick orphans later. Apparently Pop-eye thinks a lifetime of pointless community service will make up for what he did. I know Loki abhors it and fails to see the point as much as I do, but he never complains.

Either way, I'm glad Loki seems to care because the panic is starting to set in. I'm never going to make fun of girls whining about being pregnant again, because this shit is fucking scary and I'm only a month and a half in.

As if he somehow senses the path my thoughts are taking, Loki lays the book aside and snuggles himself up to me from behind.

"You hardly slept last night." He says accusingly, but in a kind way. "While exercise is important for both you and the child, you need rest too."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this." I mumble. He sighs as he drapes his arm over my waist and presses his hand gently against my belly. I squirm a bit, surprised by the intimacy of the gesture and am more than glad that he can't see my face, because I'm pretty sure I'm blushing like a schoolgirl. I will also deny to my dying breath how oddly comforting it feels.

Loki chuckles quietly in my ear.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I mentioned Sleipnir before, though I was not aware that Thor does not know that he is my Son." Loki told me. I guess he took my stunned silence as a sign that I was listening and not, in fact, at a total loss for words, because...What the fuck? Isn't Sleipnir a freaking _horse_?

"You could say I was not as careful as I should have been in a female form – and Norns no, before you ask, his father is not a horse. Admittedly, his father could be any one of five different men. That isn't important. What does matter was that I told Odin I found him abandoned while hunting and decided to raise him. I was away from Asgard during my pregnancy, so no one had any reason to doubt me. Odin was angry about it because I was still very young at the time, about twenty of your Midgardian years of age, but my mother knew the truth and talked him into letting me keep him...until Odin somehow found out that he was my son and took him away. He fed Thor and the rest of Asgard some tripe about him being an evil shape-shifter, and forced him into that form and servitude as punishment. It is irreversible. Believe me, my mother and I have tried everything."

Were it not for Loki's weight effectively pinning me down, I would roll over and give him a huge hug, because seriously, the guy really needs a hug after that. Instead I slide my hand on top of his that is still resting on my belly and lace my fingers through his.

"Why was it worse because he was your son?" I ask hoarsely. Loki doesn't reply right away, he just nuzzles his face into my hair and I have the worst suspicion he might be trying not to cry. Now that, is something I just never want to see. Loki crying has got to be worse than a whole pile of dead puppies.

"It was considered shameful, and he was born out of wedlock. Though mostly it was probably because he was afraid I would discover my heritage as a frost giant. Arguably, perhaps it was just because it was _me_. I do not know. All I _do_ know is that I spent nine months in utter misery alone in the Asgardian wilds trapped in this body, as conception had somehow occurred _after_ I shifted back. In spite of Sleipnir's origins, and having been born to me in a cave with no assistance but my own instincts, I loved him. I still do, even if he does have no memory of me, and Odin would be furious to know how often I used to sneak to the stables and bring him treats."

"Your father is an asshole." I say plainly, trying to figure out why Loki is even telling me all of this. Usually he keeps his secrets to himself and getting him to open up about something is harder than breaking into SHIELD's secure servers with Windows 98. Still, this is just sick. What kind of a father _does_ that? Even Howard wasn't that much of a dick. Though, I guess Loki is adopted, technically speaking – not that it matters, it takes more than blood to be a father.

"That is far too polite. There are no words that can adequately express my hatred for him," Loki growls, "but rest assured, Anthony, that I will care for you through this, and our child if you... Do not wish to keep it."

"You can 'rest assured' that Odin won't touch this kid as long as I'm breathing, and cool your tits, we can do this together. Raise a kid, I mean, because I kind of always wanted kids...but I suck at relationships, so I never got any. Besides, can you imagine me as a parent? Unless that sort of thing comes with a learning curve, the poor little bean here is totally fucked." I say, smiling slightly at the quiet snort of laughter from Loki. Doubtlessly, he finds the image of me trying, and failing, to be a decent parent pretty hilarious. As do I, oddly enough. Poor kid.

"Of course, now try to rest."

You know, speaking of learning curves, I'm beginning to think maybe love in general has as a pretty lenient one. Somehow, even though we're doing things ass backwards, piss drunk and blindfolded, it just feels like all the pieces are falling into place. It's not just sex anymore – now it's something else entirely. I'm not sure _what_ to call it, but it's definitely a thing. Maybe this all isn't so bad. I've always had to be the strong one, the duct tape that holds all chaos together. It's weird, and a little scary, but having someone else want to help and protect me for a change isn't bad at all. It feels kind of nice, warm and fuzzy like...Although I'll admit I feel that way about it when hell freezes over. I have my pride, after all.

If nothing else, Loki's been through this. Unlike him, I don't have to do it alone. I'm lucky for that – unbelievably so. God knows I don't deserve it.

When I finally fall asleep, there's no nightmares of the endless void of space, or being tortured in a cave. There is just a dream, a very pleasant dream...about the first night with Loki.


	5. How to Fix a Broken Demi-God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Writing smut in the present tense is surprisingly hard.
> 
> Warning: Sexual content in this chapter! ...That means don't read it at work or in public because I'm totally not responsible for any failed attempts at talking your way out of that one.

Somehow I'm aware that I'm dreaming, but I could swear it's real. Maybe it is. Maybe Loki's messing with my head while I'm asleep. I wouldn't put it past him. Just because he's not the bad guy anymore, doesn't mean he isn't still a mischievous little shit when he wants to be.

Wait... That's Loki, isn't?

I'm in the penthouse lounge, or what's left of it. I panic for a moment. The scent of smoke is spilling in through the still broken window, and most of Manhattan is still smoldering wreckage. My eyes turn back to Loki, who is curled up pathetically on the half of my sofa that wasn't blown apart by the Chitauri glider thing that's halfway through the wall beside the elevator, with a dead Chitauri draped over it.

 _"The night of the invasion,"_ I think to myself, trying to come to terms with how real it all is.

Maybe I went back in time somehow? No, that's just stupid. It's a dream.

Loki looks up at me blearily. His eyes are puffy and swollen; he's obviously been crying.

"Hey, Reindeer Games." I say tiredly and sit beside him, my body moving of its own accord as I watch these events play themselves out again. I wonder if I would have changed anything – if I could have avoided the current situation somehow – but I only think of that for a moment. I don't like to dwell on the past. Thinking of how things could, or would have been will get me nowhere – I know that, and I know it damn well.

"Leave me." He says simply, voice heavy with grief.

"I could do that, or you could hang out with me downstairs instead of sitting here throwing yourself some kind of lame ass pity party." I suggest.

"...I did not mean for this to happen." Loki says miserably. "I could have stopped it."

"Could you, though? That Thanos guy and The Other that you mentioned would still be alive if you did. They'd kick your ass for betraying them, and then finish the job themselves. It is what it is. You can't change it now, but you _can_ put your big boy pants on and take responsibility for it." I tell him, making an effort to sound condescending. I'm pretty sure the last thing Loki wants is sympathy. We're alike enough that I knew right where to find him when he fled the Helicarrier, after all.

"Look, I'm not going to tell you that self-preservation is wrong; that would be hypocritical. My name should be the official textbook definition of 'selfish'. Before I started helping people, I made things that blow them up. There's a lot more people dead on my account than as a result of what you did. However, if I picked up the pieces and turned my life around, so can you." I say to Loki and sit beside him on the burnt half of the couch. Embarrassingly, it gives way, and I find myself on the floor in a pile of ash. I laugh helplessly, and Loki just stares at me, before he finally lets a tiny smile tug at the corners of his lips.

...Lips I want to taste almost as badly as Loki wants me to leave him the hell alone.

"You know, sex is the best distraction there is for shit like this. We need to get you a booty call." I say, still chuckling about falling through the charred carcass of my ten thousand dollar designer couch.

"The Hawk told me you would, quote: 'fuck anything that's breathing'. Is that true?" Loki asks, arching an eyebrow in an expression that was equal parts curiosity and amusement.

I'm not sure if I should be proud or offended. I decide to go with offended.

"Not _anything_. I have pretty high standards, you know. It also has to be human. I'm not sticking my dick in _anything._ " I say, rolling my eyes theatrically. I can feel Loki's eyes on me, burning a hole right through me as he contemplates a reply.

"I do not suppose you would be willing to offer yourself as a distraction then, Stark? Seeing as I am not _human._ "

And you know what? ...I have _no fucking idea_ how we went from Loki wanting to be alone to stew in his misery all by himself to, well, _this_. I _can_ remember saying something along the lines of 'sure, why the hell not?' and the intoxicating feeling of his lips claiming mine. Kissing Loki is like nothing I've ever experienced before. It's feral, rough and more than a little desperate.

Somehow, we end up in a spare guest room a few floors down from the ruined penthouse. How we remain upright is beyond me. Most of it is a total blur to me, aside from the trickster's touches that set my body alight with mindless need. Loki is a genius at this, which compensates perfectly for the fact that I've never been with a guy before. It's not really that I have anything against the whole idea, but this is the first time I've met someone with a penis that I actually _want_ to fuck…

…and God, holy freaking shit, do I _want_ it.

I feel my breath forced out of my body as Loki pushes me down on the bed and lands hard on top of me. It's an _amazing_ feeling. Letting go, and handing over the reins to someone else for a change, is utterly exhilarating.

His clothed erection brushes mine as he straddles my hips and pulls me into a kiss that I could swear I'm _drowning_ in. He tastes like the coffee he drank before going to the penthouse to sulk. I'm vaguely aware of deft fingers pulling apart the buttons on my shirt, and cool lips as they place tender kisses across my collar bone. I buck my hips against Loki's, earning a sharp intake of breath and a quick nip at the tender skin beneath my jaw line.

Distractedly, Loki snaps his fingers and his leathers vanish into thin air. I look up at his bare chest and think to myself that the sexiest thing alive is having his way with me, and the mere thought almost sends me over the edge. I feel like I should do _something,_ so I let my hands rest on his hips and trail up his surprisingly well-muscled abdomen as he leans down to unravel the tie that's still loosely hanging around my neck. He tosses it aside carelessly and claims my lips again, biting down on the bottom one harshly as he manages to extricate me from my shirt.

"I hope you know, Stark, that no matter what you said earlier – I _will_ come out on top this time." Loki drawls and runs his thumbs across my nipples. I arch into the touch, silently begging for him to let me get out of my pants because they're just _too fucking tight…_

 _…_ but _yeah_ , sure Loki. Go right ahead and use me for a fuck toy, because I can hardly remember my name right now. Just whatever you do, don't stop _touching me_!

Taking my silence as compliance, Loki uses his space voodoo to just vanish my pants; and I moan at the sudden feeling of skin on skin. Loki lets our erections touch, sliding a hand between us to press them together. It's all I can do not to just come all over him. I'm not usually this responsive, but something about him is just like being stoned out of my mind on pure sex.

I nearly lose my shit when he pops open the bottle of lube I didn't even see him fish out of my jeans pocket. If he finds it weird in slightest that I carry lube and condoms at all times, he says nothing. I moan something inarticulate when one of his delicate fingers prods gently at my entrance and slides inside easily. I wish he would get on with it, I know he's just trying to make it so it'll be less painful at first, but I really just want him inside of me, like, _yesterday_.

"Relax." He says in a breathy whisper and kisses my cheek as he removes his fingers and positions himself to take me. I wonder vaguely if he likes the feel of my goatee on his lips as he starts to push forward and...

I come awake with a strangled gasp and the worse case of morning wood I've had since I was a fourteen-year-old sophomore at MIT. I roll over onto my back, panting for breath, and feel a familiar hand slip under the covers and cup my throbbing cock through the jeans that I was still wearing when I fell asleep. I glance out the window at the late afternoon sky and sigh contentedly. This is definitely a pleasant way to wake up from a nap. I could get used to this. I close my eyes as Loki scoots up next to me and kisses the very corner of my lips softly as he massages my crotch.

"Good dream?" He purrs, and slides under the blankets to unbutton my fly and pull my erection free from its confines. I let my head fall back against the pillow and try to remember how to breathe as he takes me into his mouth, sucking lightly at the tip before swallowing me whole. I've had more blowjobs than I can count in my life, but not a single one of them can measure up to Loki's talented tongue.

"Hmm, a _very_ good dream…about you, actually." I confirm, and wrap a few strands of his silken hair around my fingers. I can feel Loki's hum of approval as he sucks me hard. It doesn't take me long to find release; I was already well on my way there before I even woke up. I breathe Loki's name quietly as I reach the edge, and he swallows every last drop before kissing me again so that I can taste myself on his lips.

I just lay there contentedly for a while, stroking Loki's hair as he pleasures himself with his head resting on my chest. Vaguely, I think that I should be taking care of that for him, but I'm just too sleepy and sated to remember how to move. Loki doesn't last long either and comes with a sharp jerk and spends himself on my stomach. At least the clean-up for that is easy – I just rip off my shirt and toss it on the floor somewhere. Loki snuggles back up to me and traces faint patterns across my skin with his index finger.

That's what I like the most about having sex with him, I think. He always wants to cuddle afterward, to be close to me. The women I've had usually just take what they want and go. Loki doesn't want that, he wants to bask in the pleasant feelings that come afterward. He's not really touchy-feely, but after sex he's stuck to me like duct tape with a layer of crazy glue under it for good measure.

I guess I was pretending that the snuggling didn't happen before because I'm a big boy – a grown ass man – and cuddling is for hormonal teenagers. I don't know why I'm so ashamed of it, but I'm kind of coming to terms with it because I don't want to push Loki away. I feel safe with him wrapped around me, his face nuzzled into my hair and his hand resting on my belly.

...Well, as safe as one can be in an affair with a slightly bipolar demi-god.

The thing is, he's become a constant in my life. The longest relationship I ever managed was with Pepper, but it feels different with Loki. I keep telling myself that we're more like fuck buddies, that there are not really any feelings between us, but it's a lie. I'm his, and I don't even have a fucking clue how that happened.

...I want it to stay that way.

In a way, I think I saved Loki from breaking that night by giving him an outlet to lose himself in. Maybe we're completely dysfunctional, but every time he touches me it feels like another old wound that's still bleeding finally closes up and heals. I wonder if it feels the same for Loki. It must, or else he wouldn't keep coming back for more – wouldn't be here for me now when it feels like everything's falling to pieces.

* * *

I'm curled up in the big, squishy, leather armchair in the lounge watching Loki play _Skyrim_ (He's a frost mage, obviously), when Thor finally returns. I have a graham cracker halfway to my mouth when I turn and see the woman standing beside Thor. She's beautiful. She has curly blonde hair and looks like something that sprung out of some old painting of a queen from the Renaissance. Screw the Mona Lisa, Da Vinci would have pissed himself to paint this woman. Royalty, age, knowledge... there's so much behind the faint smile she gives me that I can't even begin to describe.

I immediately like her, which is totally unlike me. There's something soothing about her, motherly I guess. It's no wonder Loki will always think of this woman as his mother, regardless of his feelings for his total dickhead of a foster father.

I freeze, and part of the cracker falls into my lap. Loki still hasn't noticed them; he's frantically trying to not get killed by the entire city guard of Whiterun. I guess he probably stabbed someone in the face; he does that a lot.

"You look better than this morning, Man of Iron!" Thor booms and grins at me. I manage an awkward smile, and Loki swears in what has to be some kind of ancient Norse as he _finally_ gets killed by that drunken beggar that wanders the market (of all people...). He throws the controller away and shakes his head in disgust.

"You know, that wouldn't happen if you didn't murder random people." I quip, not sure how to start this conversation, and honestly it's a can of worms I'm not eager to open.

"It was a _cow,_ not a person. It was not even on purpose." Loki gripes, and I laugh so hard I nearly choke. He, of course, ignores me and turns to his mother and Thor.

"Thank you Thor. I do not wish to seem ungrateful, but I would like to speak with mother alone. I would appreciate it if you would leave us." He says. The words are evenly spoken and calm, but I know that he's terrified.

"As you wish, brother." Thor says, tries not to sulk, and heads for the stairs.

"Um, you can sit, your majesty. Should I call you that? Uh, I really don't know." I say to Loki's mother, and point at the unoccupied couch. She gracefully seats herself beside Loki instead.

"You can just call me Frigga, dear. Thor has not told me much, just enough I would assume." Frigga says to Loki and puts her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "Loki, I can tell you this at least: It is not a question of your heritage. There must be magic involved in this somehow."

"Perhaps it _is_ my fault, then." Loki mutters miserably.

"How?" Frigga asks curiously.

"Because of bringing me back from the dead? I kind of have no idea how that could cause this." I interject and nibble on my graham cracker. The last thing I want is food, but I _have_ to eat something.

"What?!" Frigga says shrilly. Loki sighs and runs his fingers through his hair in agitation.

"I could not let him die, not to save this world that would not have been in danger if not for me. Never mind that I doubt I could have tolerated seeing his friends mourn." Loki said dully, not meeting Frigga's eyes. "I made a deal with Hela, to spare him."

"To do that, it would have required a sacrifice. You would have had to offer Hela another soul in his place." Frigga said. Loki nodded, looking like a kid that got caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

"You had to _kill_ someone to... Who was it?" I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer.

"Myself, or I had intended to, considering I saw it as penance for what I've done, and I frankly had nothing worth living for at the time. Hela apparently decided to 'take a rain check' as you Midgardians would call it. She would never take my soul, though. Instead, I promised to do something for her, and that arrangement I will keep to myself." Loki tells us calmly.

"You... why?" I gape at him like a fish.

Now I _really_ feel bad for being a dick to him all the time without even realizing it.

"But how could that make me able to get knocked up?" I inquire, in shock at what I'm hearing.

"Because Hela lent you part of her own soul. Hela is a being both living and dead, she used the 'dead' part of herself as a sacrifice to balance the equation. So half of your soul resides in Helheim under Hela's care, and half of her soul is filling the gap so to speak, and keeping you alive. It will be returned to her when you do eventually die, as will the missing part of yours go back to you –and do not fret, there is no time limit nor conditions. You are living on borrowed time, but you probably will not die anytime soon. One mortal lifespan is but a moment in passing to Hela. I have no idea how it would change anything, but perhaps because she 'sacrificed' a female soul...? I do not know." Loki tries to explain in terms that I can understand.

"Somehow I always knew I'd go to hell..." I mutter, wondering if I'd been smoking some really good shit to be hearing all this. What's worse, is that it's kind of making sense. Well, not so much about the pregnancy, but the soul for a soul thing.

"Helheim is not at all like the Christian concept of Hell. Being a warrior and having died a warrior's death, your place is Valhalla." Loki says blankly.

"I... have no idea how that could cause this, but Hela is very much your daughter, Loki. She has a mischievous streak a mile long. Maybe she meant for this to happen, and made it possible through some magic of her own. I know you don't want to speak of it, but I need to know _everything_ if I can be of any help. What did Hela request of you?" Frigga demands, giving Loki a glare that's full of motherly concern but still means serious business.

So, Hela _is_ Loki's daughter. Interesting. I guess he didn't give birth to her, though – only Sleipnir, apparently.

Loki glances at me momentarily and then becomes very interested in the carpet beneath his feet. Finally, he heaves a tired sigh and answers the question.

"She made me take an oath,...that I would stay by Stark's side and learn to love him, because she is sick of me being lonely by my own volition." Loki says shamefully and refuses to meet my eyes.

I wonder then, if everything he's done is because of his promise, and not because he actually cares at all. I barely manage to avoid voicing my opinion on the matter. That's not something I want to talk about in front of Frigga. Finally, Loki looks up me, sees the hurt in my eyes, and flinches as if I'd hit him.

"I never had to _try_ though. It seems to be happening on its own. I have no idea how to love anything but my mother and children, but this feels...different…good. Do not think that my concern for you is false." He says to me quietly. Well, I know where Thor got his idiot sappy grin from now, because Frigga looks like she's so happy she could just _die._

I just nod silently, not sure what to say.


	6. No More Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates. My life has been shitty. Also, because I have really spotty internet access, I'm not going to bother having the future chapters of this beta read because I have no idea when I will or won't be around. :c So, if you see any mistakes from here on out (I'm sure they're there, ugh) please point them out to me.
> 
> And please comment! I'm a feedback whore and really want to know how I'm doing!

It's been three months since Frigga's visit. She left shortly after our little chat to go interrogate Hela. We haven't heard from her or Thor since, but Loki doesn't seem worried. No, the only thing he seems to _worry_ about is making sure I sleep instead of working myself to death in the shop. It's kind of a losing battle for him, though. The board is hounding me for a prototype of a new Starkphone to compete with Apple's newest overpriced piece of shit (even though we _just_ released a new one), and I'm running out of time to keep them happy. ...And still be able to attend board meetings in person without arousing suspicion.

It won't be long before I can't do _anything_ in public, really. I'm kind of terrified to imagine how the media will react to me being pregnant. It's not noticeable yet, as long as I wear loose clothes. But I have _obviously_ gained weight, and I seriously doubt the crazies on tumblr and the writers for _National Enquirer_ will believe that's a beer belly... Honestly, I'd be a teensy bit disappointed if they did. Either way, I have gotten a few questions from the braver Stark Industries employees about my sudden weight gain. That... can't be a good sign.

"Well, Chickpea." I say, standing in front of the bathroom mirror in only a pair of blue pajama pants with my hand resting on my tummy, "We'll think of something. It'll be fine."

That's something I've caught myself doing lately – talking to myself. ...To the kid, I guess. Thankfully no one's seen me do it, I sincerely doubt I'd live it down. Clint would torment me for the next ten years, or at least until Loki pulls some dumb prank on Steve that's funnier.

I wander back into the bedroom. Loki is fast asleep in the bed where I left him, curled up in a cocoon of blankets with his head resting on my pillow. I slide back under the covers and snuggle up to him. At least the morning sickness is getting a little better, though for a moment there I thought I was going to lose whatever's left of dinner.

"Chickpea?" Loki mumbles questioningly, and brushes his fingers across my cheek.

"Uh. That's..." I'm glad he has his eyes closed, because I'm blushing like some kind of virgin that got caught watching their first porno. I don't know why, but it's embarrassing as hell that he heard me.

"...Not what you are naming the little one if I am to have any input." Loki drawls, obviously he'd only been pretending to be asleep. Little shit. I just ignore him and haul myself back out of bed, deciding to do something useful in the shop. Well, relatively. I'm sort of on power tool probation because Bruce and Loki are terrified I'll hurt myself with something. Not that I blame them. It's a pretty legitimate fear.

"Huh... I don't feel..." Almost as soon as I get out of the bed, I feel lightheaded and the room spins like the good old days of partying too hard with my buddies Jack Daniels and Captain Morgan. I awkwardly plop back down on the bed and hold my head in my hands. I'm caught somewhere between wanting to puke my guts out and faint like some woman in one of those old movies.

"You feel faint?" Loki asks, already at my side with one of his hands resting on my back. I nod, and lean against him more for comfort than actual support, but like hell if I'll admit that. I don't need to, though. He knows, and I'm endlessly thankful that he doesn't comment.

"You need to get up more slowly." Loki tells me, but I'm not listening at all. I _really_ don't feel well. Shakily, I lie back down and try to remember how to breathe.

"Anthony?" I hear Loki say with concern, but his voice sounds distant, like he's further away than he is... and...

* * *

The next thing I know, I'm lying in one of the beds in the medical suite with Loki next to me and Bruce holding a warm compress to my forehead. Vaguely, I wonder if I got my ass kicked saving the day or something. Well, until I remember that _something_ wasn't right and... the panic sets in.

"What happened? The baby -"

"Is fine." Bruce tells me, and shoves me down as I try to sit bolt upright. "Relax. No stress, remember?"

I take a deep breath and look up at the plain white ceiling in annoyance. I am so tired of feeling like death's ex-girlfriend with a hangover for the record books. I just want to be me again, and I'm not even sure I can remember what _me_ feels like.

"As for what happened... Due to the changes going on in your body right now, you are going to start having fluctuations in your blood pressure. It's normal to feel dizzy or faint, but you need to be careful. Again, _no stress_. You also should get up slowly if you've been sitting or lying down." Bruce explains and Loki nods in agreement. I just kind of zone Bruce out, and wonder how the fuck I'm going to finish that stupid Starkphone on time. They say no stress like they have some kind of idea what it's like inside my head. ...Or what Pepper's like when I don't meet a deadline.

"So, if I'm fine, I really have work to do down in the shop." I mutter disgustedly, dreading the board meeting in a couple days that Pepper has made sure to remind me a good _twenty times_ that I absolutely fucking _cannot_ miss. Bruce gives me this kind of sad, sympathetic look, and I'm shaking my head in denial before the words are even out of his mouth.

"No, Tony. I think you shouldn't. If you pass out again and you're down there by yourself..." Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose the way he does when he's irritated. "I think it's time you either own up to your condition publicly, or lie low. It's your choice, but you really need to take it easy."

"I'm not some damsel in distress! I have a deadline to meet! You have _no idea_ what the board is like when I get behind! And _Pepper_. Jesus fucking Christ, Pepper is like a pissed off viper with anger management issues when I don't get shit done on time. She makes the Hulk look like a goddamn teddy bear. I don't have time for this!" I whine, and sit up. "No, I need to finish it. If I don't -"

"Stop." Loki says softly and effectively shuts me up with a gentle kiss on my lips, knowing that nothing else is going to get through to me in the middle of a rant. I notice that, _damn it_ , my heart is pounding and I'm starting to feel a little dizzy again as he shoves me back down against the pillows.

"Doctor Banner is right." Loki agrees and lets go of me, when he's sure I won't try to bolt like some kind of startled deer. I glare at him with something that feels almost like betrayal.

What am I supposed to do now? I glance pleadingly at Bruce and he heaves a sigh. Loki just plops down on the edge of the bed with a completely unreadable expression.

"Stop running, Tony." Bruce says cryptically.

Running? Running from what? Oh. _Right_. ...The fact that I _still_ kind of hope this is all a shitty dream and I'm going to wake up hungover in my shop. In a way, I always wanted kids – but not like this. Still, it's a rough pill to swallow. I can't even keep plants alive. I'm not cut out to be a parent. I can't do this.

"Anthony?" Loki asks quietly. "Do you feel well?" I blink in confusion, and look up at Loki. I hadn't even noticed myself drifting off into my own miserable little world. I take a deep breath, and look back up at Bruce.

"I don't know how to stop running." I say flatly. "It's easier to run from shit that scares you than is to deal with it. Even though you _know_ it's just going to bite you in the ass later."

Sometimes heroes need heroes, too. ...Even I don't really consider myself a 'hero' – not like the rest of them, anyway. I'm too selfish and too much of an asshole to be a proper hero. Maybe that's why no one's running to my rescue. Even if they were, would I let them help me? Of course not. I can't stand to be seen as weak. My damn pride will be the death of me.

Loki gives me the strangest look that's full of sympathy, and it just doesn't suit him. He pulls me against him, and I go without any resistance. I can almost imagine Bruce averting his eyes as I bury my face in Loki's hair that reeks of some kind of overpriced shampoo. I never expected this from Loki, the gentleness and constant support, I mean. I knew he'd be protective of me, like a big angry momma bear watching over her cubs, but I never saw this coming.

I love him so much, but I'm terrified to tell him that.

"You know, we might be able to tell its gender by now if you want." Bruce says awkwardly, trying to say _anything_ to break the tense silence. "Thought of any names yet?"

"I... All right. And no." I answer, a little nervously.

It's not like the first ultrasound. It's not just a little jellybean anymore. I can actually see a tiny person there. Inside of me. It's incredible, but honestly a little creepy like some kind of parasite. Loki looks so happy, and it makes me feel like the world's biggest douche to still be wishing none of this was happening.

"It's going to be a girl." Bruce confirms, with a smile that I'm almost positive is entirely for my own benefit.

A girl. I bite my tongue, and wonder whether or not I can at least corrupt her into playing with circuit boards instead of Barbie dolls and makeup. An image flashes through my mind of a nerdy little girl with my eyes and Loki's smile showing me something she'd built in science class at school. For just a moment, I think to myself that maybe it won't be so bad.

* * *

"Sigrid?" Loki suggests, shrugging. He's dressed in a pair of my jeans (that don't fit me at all in my current state) and a plain black t-shirt.

"No, too old fashioned. What about Kayla?" I say hopefully as I flick through channels on the TV in the lounge. Steve's behind us cooking something, occasionally he makes a comment about one of the names, or a sound of disapproval at others.

We've been going back and forth about names for the past two days now. Picking one is going to be a lot harder than I thought. But, at least it gives me some way to keep my mind off the morass of self-doubt and uncertainty inside of my head.

"No, that sounds like some harlot's name." Loki retorts.

"I'm pretty sure the only Kayla I know has a vibranium chastity belt, because I've never been able to get into her -"

"What about Peggy?" Steve suggests, thoughtfully.

"Hmm, no." Loki says, shaking his head, oblivious to the remarkable woman that Steve was referencing. He isn't particularly bothered by it. Actually, I kind of imagine that if we did choose Peggy for a name, that Poor Steve would look like a kicked puppy everyone someone said it.

"Lindsay?" I ask running flat out of ideas.

"...I like that one." Loki mutters and tilts his head to the side kind of like a squirrel while he thinks about it. "But it -" The words die on his lips and he stares out the window at Manhattan below them. It's late in the afternoon, and traffic is at a standstill. It's been a rainy day, and there's still some droplets clinging to the outside of the glass that's foggy in places.

"What?" Steve asks, handing Loki a plate of vegetable stir-fry that smells divine. He sits down beside me and gives me my share as well. I glance curiously at Loki as he stares out the window.

"Loki?" Steve persists. He visibly relaxes and turns back to us.

"There is something I need to do." Loki says, and vanishes into thin air. I blink, and shake my head.

"Dibs on his stir-fry." I mutter, with a sideways glance at Steve.

An hour later, there's still no sign of Loki. I don't think much of it, but it's the longest he's been away from me since finding out about the pregnancy. Well, unless I'm out doing PR crap or in board meetings. Steve and I are still sitting in the lounge, watching an old episode of CSI. I'm bordering on falling asleep. Lately I can't seem to stay awake. I'm so damn tired. Absently, I lay one of my hands over my belly and glance over at Steve who looks bored out of his mind.

"What was your dad like?" I ask, curiously. He frowns at me, and something about that expression on him is adorable, if not a little childish.

"I don't really remember him; he died when I was a kid. All I really do recall was that he was never around, and he was drunk when he was." Steve says bitterly. Ah, that feeling I know. All too well.

"Well, there goes that idea." I sigh and lean back into the couch. Granted, Howard Stark wasn't even actually my father, but there's no reason to open that can of worms. ...Not when I still have a hard time accepting it myself.

"What idea?" Steve inquires, tilting his head to the side questioningly.

"The one where I pathetically ask you for advice because I have no idea how to be a parent. My father never had any time for me, and honestly I was more of an annoyance to him than anything else." I say sadly and flick through the channels on the TV to to try to find something to watch that isn't pointless drama about southern white trash. Steve doesn't say anything at first, we just sit in silence. I settle on the news and we both just kind of stare at the screen with vacant expressions.

"This is actually happening..." Steve says finally and shakes his head. I roll my eyes and swear at him under my breath. "Wasn't there anyone in your life that took care of you as kid?" Steve adds hopelessly. I just shake my head, not wanting to mention Jarvis. I'm sure Steve will assume I'm talking about the AI, not the family butler who I based him on. I turn my attention to the news. There's been a bombing in Baghdad, no surprises there. Oh, and another fatal school shooting. What a _lovely_ weekend it is. Heaving a sigh, I change the channel. ...And make a mental note to make sure _my_ daughter is home-schooled.

"It is physically impossible to avoid stress entirely, and I am bored out of my fucking mind." I finally snap and toss the remote aside. "I'm going to bed." I say resignedly and leave Steve alone. He awkwardly says goodnight as I find my way to the elevator and slump against the wall. I need to take my frustration out on something. It's been a while since I've honestly felt like blowing stuff up just to distract myself from reality. Maybe when Loki comes back I can convince him to come down to the workshop with me. I need to _do_ something or I'm going to go batshit crazy.

* * *

"Where did you go?" I ask Loki when I wake up with him pressed against my back with his arms wrapped around me. It's early, I can see the dim light of the rising sun peeking over Manhattan's jagged skyline. I wonder what it was that woke me, Loki usually doesn't when he sneaks back into bed. I know he stays with me until I fall asleep and spends most of the night with his nose in a book or watching movies alone in the lounge. He thinks I don't notice, but I know he doesn't sleep much. ...And that he has nightmares just as often as I do. ...Ones that make him wake up trembling and covered in a cold sweat. So far, I haven't managed to get him to talk about it, but I'm willing to bet it has to do with the Chitauri.

"I shall tell you another day." Loki says tiredly and ruffles my hair in an affectionate way. "Will you go to the meeting at your company today?" I bite my lip and my eyelids flutter closed as I think about it. Being on workshop probation sort of destroyed any hope of finishing the Starkphone prototype on time. ...Which means they'll be furious. That and, well, the little bean has grown a lot in the past week. It's not possible to hide anymore, so I haven't left the tower.

"Yeah. I _should_." I say uncertainly and glance at Loki who is watching me with a concerned expression. "You know, I was thinking, about the whole avoiding stress thing..."

"Yes?" Loki asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Maybe we could stay in my mansion in Malibu for a while instead. No one will bother us there." I suggest. Loki shakes his head.

"Stop hiding; this shame and fear you are wallowing in does you no justice." Loki tells me plainly. I wince and look away. Leave to Loki to be the one to state the painfully obvious. "All will be well." He adds quietly and runs his fingers through my hair in a comforting way. I lean into the touch hungrily and bury my face below his chin. When did I get so damn clingy?

"I'm scared, Lokes." I whisper and hang onto him tightly.

"What is so terrifying?" Loki asks, not sarcastically but in a gentle, caring tone. I take a shaky breath and decide that maybe it's time I did some good old fashioned venting. It's not like I have any one else to whine to anyway. Pepper is completely (predictably) unsympathetic, as are the others for the most part. Granted they've all been very supportive in their own ways, but I doubt ranting to Steve or Clint about my insecurities and self-doubt would get me anywhere. Natasha... She'd probably go for Loki's balls with a rusty crowbar if she knew what's _really_ going on in my head. Bruce, I know would listen but probably tell me to get over it, or suggest I try meditation to deal with the depression.

"Do you want the short list or the long one?" I ask with a snort.

When Loki doesn't make any indication of replying, I just decide to say fuck it and go for the long version. "Okay, a lot of things scare me. Like, how the public is going to react because Bruce is right – I can't keep hiding. I have an obligation to get shit done for Stark Industries, and the board would be fully within their rights to lock me out again if I don't deliver. If I told them, it would get rid of some of the stress, and give me some leeway – depending on how they react. They might lock me out anyway, because for all they know someone put acid in my coffee if I walk in there and say I'm pregnant."

"That's entirely petty -" Loki began but I cut him off mid-sentence.

"But that's the least of it. I mean, the actual birth? That's giving me nightmares and possibly an ulcer. I still can't make my mind up over whether or not I should go see an actual doctor because as good as he is, Bruce isn't _that_ kind of doctor. And that's another whole can of worms because I fucking hate hospitals." I stop to catch my breath and Loki just chuckles quietly.

"It won't be so different than it is for a woman." Loki interjects with an odd kind of smirk. "Painful, yes, but you'll live. Perhaps you should see one of your Midgardian healers to help put your mind at ease, if nothing else."

"Right." I mutter mutinously. "But the real thing is just... I don't know if I can do this. My father was an asshole. He never once told me he loved me. No matter how hard I tried to make him proud of me, I was never good enough. I'm worried that I'll be the same. I'm selfish, arrogant and an asshole at best. People like me don't deserve kids – shouldn't have kids."

"Now you are just being an idiot. You have your faults, but what have done so far that would suggest you were too selfish to be a parent? You haven't neglected yourself, you've managed to follow the diet Doctor Banner gave you to the letter and taken good care of your health for the most part. So far you have even stayed out of your workshop. I know you. If you wished to disregard any of that, you would have by now and I doubt even I could stop you." Loki says sternly, pressing his index finger to my lips to silence me.

"I think that once you hold our daughter in your arms, you will realize how misplaced your fears are. I do not see why you would need to inform the masses of this, either. It is your life, not theirs. Perhaps it would be best not to keep those that work for you in the dark, however."

I take a deep breath and nod silently. Maybe he's right. I don't know, but tomorrow's going to be a long day. I'll have to tell the board. Pepper's kept it quiet for me until now, but that can't last forever. I knew that; I just hoped it wouldn't come to this. And Bruce... He's been suggesting from the beginning that I see a proper obstetrician, even gave me the names and phone numbers for a few that he knows personally who can be trusted to be discreet about the whole mess. So that's the plan, I guess.

...If I survive the board meeting.


	7. Professional Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry guys, this going to get much fluffier and happier soon. :3 Poor Tony. I'm not sorry, lol.
> 
> Oh, an update! Look at that! Man, I'd like to say I'm on a roll, but I'm actually just sleep deprived and not wasting the opportunity to mooch some wifi and post this. *sobs*
> 
> Possible trigger warning for a brief mention of rape.

"Good morning, I'm Tony Stark. Yes, _that_ Tony Stark. This going to sound crazy but it's a thing and I swear I'm not drunk, stoned or intoxicated in any way. Nor this is a prank call, though that _would_ be kind of funny. ...And probably something I'd do, but here's the deal: I sort of had sex with an alien and now I'm about four and a half months pregnant. Could I please get an appointment?"

I swear I've repeated that pathetic monologue like twenty times this morning. The first obstetrician's office I called just hung up on me. The receptionist in the second one laughed so hard that she dropped the phone before, again, hanging up on me. The third, asked if I was _sure_ I wasn't drunk and offered to help, but I couldn't get an appointment until next month. I'm pretty sure she was just fucking with me.

Miserably, I glance down at the list of phone numbers Bruce gave me. There's only one left – Doctor Erin Martin, who apparently has a small practice in the Lower East Side here in Manhattan. Bruce actually told me to call her first, but as usual I ignored him. Apparently Doctor Martin started her career working for the Peace Corps in Africa and India, so Bruce was relatively certain she'd seen just about everything. Just not a pregnant man, but if there was a woman for the job it was Erin. ...According to Bruce, anyway.

"Well, this is it I guess." I mutter and have Jarvis dial the number. When the receptionist picks up and greets me politely, I once again launch into the awkward explanation of my situation. I can hear her try (and fail) not to giggle explosively. I can't really hold it against her, it sounds pretty fucking ridiculous.

"I... Oh my. I'm sorry, I don't mean to – Ha ha! Excuse me, please it's not funny, really, it's not. Um, I can get you in tonight after hours if you want? Doctor Martin won't mind, she mostly takes charity cases anyway so the schedule's pretty flexible." The receptionist, who has a bit of an Irish accent, says politely.

"Oh God, yes please. Just give me a time, babe. And this won't be a charity case, I swear I'll pay double in cash just for you not hanging up on me." I chatter in mindless relief. I glance at the clock on the screen of my tablet. I've got about ten minutes before I have to leave for the meeting. Loki's downstairs in the lounge, I think. I kicked him out for a bit of privacy while I'm busy emasculating myself – since I'm pretty sure a recording of me explaining how I got impregnated by an alien will be on the internet somewhere by the time I get out of the meeting.

Damn it.

"Will seven work for you?" The receptionist replies. I can hear her typing rhythmically on a keyboard while she speaks.

"Sure. I'll get all my records transferred to you. Seriously, thanks for not thinking this was a prank call because I really need -"

"Relax, Mr. Stark. It's not as scary as it seems, and stress is something you are going to want to avoid as much as physically possible. We'll see you tonight, please be on time." The receptions tells me, cutting me off mid-sentence. Is it _that_ obvious that I'm stressing over this worse than pretty much anything I've ever stressed over?

"Right. It's a date." I say automatically, unable to keep the nerves out of my voice. When she wishes me a good day and I finally hang up the phone, I'm not sure if I feel relieved or even more freaked out. Either way, I have to do this. Bruce already refused to be any more involved with it medically than he already is. I don't blame him. He's not doing it to be a dick, he's pushing me for me own good because there's people out there better equipped to help me through this than he is. I'm not taking Loki, though. I'm sure he'll be pissed, but this is something I need to do alone. Well, the first visit anyway.

The board meeting, that... Well, it's going to be _interesting_ , to say the least.

"Man up, Tony." I tell myself as I check my clothes in the bathroom mirror one last time before heading out. It's obvious. There's no way to hide it anymore. I'm wearing a grey pinstripe Armani suit that's always been a bit loose on me, but now it barely fits. The jacket is still loose enough to mostly conceal the bulge of my stomach, but it's there and you'd have to be blind not to see it. For the first time in my life, a twinge of honest to God self-consciousness passes over me. I'm _fat_. I just look like any other thirty year old corporate shark with a beer belly. Well, a small-ish beer belly. But _still._ I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a sigh.

"All right, kiddo. Let's get this over with. Any more stalling and I'll pussy out. Your fath – _mother_ is not a fucking pussy." I say mostly for my own benefit, and turn my back on my reflection.

When I reach the meeting room, I'm barely on time. Whatever. It's better than late, right? Pepper obviously doesn't think so since she just glares at me and shakes her head when I take my seat. For a while, I just sit in silence contemplating how to break the news. I stare blankly at the clear glass tabletop, and let my eyes wander back up to Pepper. She's talking finances, since that's pretty much what she does. She looks amazing in that navy business suit with her hair tied up in a loose bun. It's probably just that she's not an emotional wreck anymore - that she looks so good, I mean. ...Since she only has to put up with my BS when it has to do with the business. I miss her, though. And I know I'm wholly to blame for things working out the way they did. But, the thing is, I'm not sure I'd change anything even if I _could_ do it all over again.

"Mr. Stark, when can we expect a functional prototype of the new Starkphone?" One of the directors asks. He's a short guy with a half-assed mustache and greying brown hair that's got an ugly comb-over going on. He has little, sneaky beady eyes that are too close together and honestly he's by far the biggest douche of the lot.

"I regret to say that it could be a while. I'll get the development team on it, but I can't work on it personally right now due to medical reasons." That sounds nothing like me. Where's the sarcasm? The wit? The snark? ...But there it is. I'm too tired and too busy fretting over my impending appointment with Doctor Martin to bother being a condescending ass. Damn I wish I could suck down a latte, but decaf just isn't real coffee in my opinion.

"Medical reasons?" The board member, Don was his name (I think), drawls in an obnoxious tone. "Like what? Aside from the fact that you've been eating too much McDonald's or something, I don't see anything wrong with you."

"I'm pregnant, actually. Also banned from my workshop since I have a tendency to pass out from low blood pressure." I say, without thinking about it. ...Which was the only way to do it because I'd be fucked if I tried to rehearse it in my head. The silence that follows was overwhelming. All of the board members glare at me – some of them in disgust, some of them trying not to laugh. Only Pepper gives me a sympathetic smile and a small nod. ...Her way of saying she was glad I'd finally owned up to it.

"Very funny, Stark." Another board member snaps. This one, whose name I can't remember to save my life, is a fat middle aged man with a shaggy black beard that would make the cast of _Duck Dynasty_ seethe with jealousy.

"He actually _is_ pregnant, as insane as it sounds. It just wasn't my place to say anything previously, or about the actual circumstances." Pepper cuts in and glares at the board members, who stare right back in various states of shock. "I would suggest giving Mr. Stark time enough for maternity leave before readdressing the new Starkphone model. A cellphone with infinite battery life will destroy the competition, but we need _his_ brain to make it work. Putting Mr. Stark's health at risk isn't going to get it done any faster."

I want to kiss Pepper right now, seriously. She's always stood up for me when it counts, and the fact that she still is... It's amazing. I thought that I'd lost her after our relationship fell apart. It means the world to me that she still must care if she's worried enough to defend me in front of the board. Though, the last think I want is for her to fret over me.

"I suppose it can wait... It's not like our competition actually has access to the tech to do it." Don, the short sleazy board member says in a cowed manner. The others grumble in grudging agreement. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when the conversation turns back to the stocks and new sales strategies.

I lean forward and rest my head in the palm of my hand while the meeting drags on. It's nearly six when it finally ends, and enduring the board members 'congratulating' me is pure torture. I attempt to make a swift exit once they're gone, but Pepper corners me before I can manage it. I force myself to smile at her while she crosses her arms across her chest and gives me that patent mother hen glare that only she can pull off with such a high level of intimidation.

"Did you really pass out in your workshop, Tony?" She asks me with unmasked concern.

"No, but I _did_ pass out and Bruce won't let me down there anymore because of it being a risk." I reply shamefully. "Listen, Pepper... Thanks for earlier. I'm not trying to ditch you here, but I do have another appointment that I can't be late for."

"A-All right. Take care of yourself, okay?" Pepper says quietly and leans in to kiss my cheek. "I'll look after the company for you."

"You are a saint." I say and give her a hug. "I really do need to go, though."

Everything's going to be all right, somehow. Pepper still cares about me, and the board's off my back for the time being. I feel exponentially better knowing I can go to sleep tonight without having to panic about it anymore. Well, that's not saying there won't be nightmares, but at least I won't have to fret over that stupid deadline until after the kid's born. ...If I have time for it between learning how to change diapers and shit.

I am so fucked.

I _finally_ feel a bit like myself as I slide into the leather driver's seat of my black corvette convertible. Now, I just have to get through this last bit of torment and maybe things will start falling into place properly.

…

Doctor Martin's practice is a small place – an old remodeled brick building that's probably as old as Ellis Island. It's not glamorous, and the waiting room is outfitted with red chairs that look like they're straight from the eighties. There's no huge flat screen TV or any other nonsense, either. Oddly, I like it better that way in spite of my modern tastes. To me, that's a sign that Martin cares more about her work than the money. I'll never admit it, but it's a thought that's both sobering and incredibly comforting.

"Tony Stark." I say to the receptionist, silently thanking whatever gods there might be that the waiting room is empty. She looks up at me and smiles awkwardly. She's a tiny thing with bouncing brown curls and warm hazel eyes. If anything, I'd say she's Steve's type – innocent, quiet and a bit shy.

"Good evening. I'm _really_ sorry for laughing for at you earlier. Anyway, I'm Carrie – Doctor Martin's intern." She replies sheepishly. "We received all your medical records, and the ultrasound images from Doctor Banner. Doctor Martin will probably want to do one herself, though. I'll still need you to fill out all the paperwork. Sorry."

"That's fine." I say somewhat resignedly. It takes me a bit longer than I'd like to admit to fill out all the consent and medical history forms. In the past, Pepper always took care of this shit and I honestly haven't visited a doctor since returning from Afghanistan. I was always too worried about the arc reactor (or the knowledge of exactly what it does) falling into the wrong hands. After what seems like half an age, I finally hand the battered clipboard with my information back to Carrie. ...And silently pray that I got my social security number right because Pepper will _never_ let me live that down. It is not, in fact, five.

"All right, everything's in order. Come on through that door there to your right." Carrie tells me and points at the door that's slightly ajar, near the end of the glass window she's sitting behind. I do as I'm told (for once), and shove the door open. It protests with a loud creak. Carrie's waiting for me on the other side and she motions for me to follow her down the hall and into a small examination room on the right side. I kind of feel like I'm being led to slaughter, but damned if I'm going to admit it.

"Doctor Martin will be with you in a moment." Carrie says and disappears back down the hall. I sigh quietly and hop into the edge of the exam table. I fidget a bit, hating the silence and the waiting – mostly the waiting. I'm fiddling absently with the cuff of my jacket when Martin walks in.

She's maybe forty years old, tall and thin with vibrant red hair that's grey in some spots, and bright green eyes obscured by a pair of thin frameless glasses. She gives me a warm smile, and I decide immediately that I like her. She reminds me of Bruce, and that can never be a bad thing. I let go of my now messed up shirt cuff and stuff my hands in my pockets to try and keep from fidgeting.

"Well, I've spent the better part of the afternoon chatting with Bruce about this." Doctor Martin says calmly. "There's a few things we need to go over, but mostly form what he's told me you're doing pretty well so far. Physically anyway, but Bruce's a little worried about your mental state."

"I – all right." I say awkwardly. "I didn't know you knew each other. Well, he did give me your phone number, but you know what I mean."

"We met years ago in Kenya. We did a lot of work together helping pregnant women in poverty. Everything he knows about it is _probably_ because of me. Call me Erin by the way. I never like my family name much." She says nonchalantly and flips through a thick manila folder full of papers that she has in her hands. "According to these, you haven't been to a doctor in almost five years." Her tone is curious, not accusatory.

I close my eyes for a moment and think about it, before I launch into an explanation of what _really_ happened in Afghanistan. I tell her about the arc reactor, how it keeps that shrapnel out of my heart and the nightmare with the palladium poisoning. Erin listens with rapt attention, and asks to see it when I'm done explaining. Uncertainly, I slip off the jacket and unbutton the silk undershirt. Erin leans over to have a proper look, and her eyes are wide with fascination. Like Bruce and I, this woman is a scientist. I can tell from the way she studies it that she's trying to figure out how it works. It doesn't bother me though, somehow I instinctively know that she's not the type to use it against me.

"This is _incredible_. If only it could be cost effective, this technology could do wonders for people with heart conditions. Well, with some tinkering, I'd guess. Unfortunately, I'm an obstetrician, not a cardiologist." Erin say after a few moments. "Anyway, Bruce gave me copies of your most recent physical that he did. That's fine. It's good enough. I am going to run another ultrasound, and check a couple other things over. I need to know exactly what you look like on the inside, because natural childbirth will probably be safer than a c-section because, well, you're not a woman. ...If it's an option, anyway. Either way, we'll worry about all of that tomorrow – I'll try to get you in here first thing in the morning."

I swallow hard and try not to think about how _that_ would work.

That's just... _Nasty._ Either way it doesn't bear thinking about.

"Take your shirt off and lie down for me, Tony." Erin says as she pulls on a pair of exam gloves. I blink, surprised that she called me by my first name, unlike almost everyone else. Not that I'm complaining, I hate being called Stark anyway. I'm not Howard. I shrug off my shirt and tie and lean back with a wince. I hope I can get back up. My back is sore as hell after sitting in that meeting all fucking day. I close my eyes as Erin gently presses a stethoscope to various places on my abdomen.

"She has a good, strong heartbeat." The doctor observes happily. "Can you feel her move yet?" I almost choke as I forget how to breathe. I hadn't thought of that. I can feel my heart racing as I try to imagine it.

"No." I say, finding my voice.

"Hmm. It is it a bit early, but you will start to feel it soon." I kind want to crawl in a hole, I settle for taking a deep breath that's more like a gasp and trying to remind myself that Erin's probably taken the Hippocratic oath and not going to post this shit on facebook the minute I leave. If I didn't think I could trust her (based on Bruce's recommendation), I wouldn't be here.

"You know, it's not as scary as it all seems. It's kind of exciting." Erin says fondly. I look up at her with a frown and she gives me a wink. "I know what you're going through. I was there when I was sixteen – after I got raped walking home from work one night. The circumstances are different, but it's scary when it's something you don't want to accept. But my mother told something that got me through the worst of it. It's not the child's fault. It's not a monster. It's a frail, tiny living thing that needs to be loved as much as you do. It doesn't have to be a bad thing. A new life is a blessing. And you know what, my daughter has brought more joy to my life than I ever could have imagined. When you're feeling down, don't think about how scary it is – think about how it'll feel when you hold her in your arms, and go shopping for cute little dresses to take your mind off it."

I don't have anything to say, really. I never blamed the child, but I also haven't really thought of her in that way either. Not as a person, just a _thing_. ...And I feel like a total asshole for never realizing it. But it could be worse. Much worse. I have more than enough money to provide for the kid, or to pay someone else to do it if I need a break. Either way, if I go clothes shopping every time I get panicky, this kid is going to have more clothes than a Hollywood model.

It doesn't have to be a bad thing.

...I think I _can_ do this now. Maybe I've just been seeing it all in the wrong light.

"Oh, and one more thing." Erin says with a knowing smile, "Don't let it get to you that you're putting on more than a few pounds. Diet and proper exercise will get you back in shape after she's born. It's not permanent. And if you end up with any scars, they won't be nearly as noticeable as the ones you already have." I roll my eyes, but she knows I was thinking it and there's no point in arguing.

"Now, you already know most of what to expect. Morning sickness, frequent urination, all of that. Just make sure to take it easy if you're feeling dizzy or lightheaded. That _will_ happen; Bruce told me about the incident you had already. You're also probably going to have a lot of back pain, given that you're body just isn't built for this. You might need help getting up from chairs or out of bed when you get a bit further along." I try not imagine getting stuck in one of the big squishy chairs in the lounge and having to have Steve or Loki haul me out of it. I can't help but smile a bit at the image.

"Do you have any questions? Don't worry, I'm not going to make fun of you – no matter how stupid it seems." Erin asks kindly.

"When she moves... Will it be painful?" Now I really want to crawl in a hole; my face must be beet red.

"No, not at all. It'll probably feel strange at first, kind of like something fluttering inside of you, but it won't hurt. It might a bit when she gets bigger and starts kicking, but nothing too bad. Anything else?" I shake my head mutely. "All right then, go home and get some rest. I'll have Carrie call you in the morning to let you know what time to come over so I can run the tests I need to figure out _how_ she's going to be born." Erin says and hands me my shirt, which I unceremoniously stuff back over my head.

"Okay. And... Thanks. This was a lot more helpful than I thought it would be." I say somewhat sheepishly. Erin just winks and shoos me out the door, which is fine because I kind of want to bolt like a startled deer.


	8. Japanese porn makes more sense than this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having too much fun writing this, haha. I may just have to draw some fanart of Loki in his Captain America jammies if I get the time, lmfao.
> 
> Warning: Sexy times in this chapter. ...Now that I feel like a naughty virgin for having to google pregnant sex positions. *crawls in a hole*

When I finally make it back to the tower sometime near nine, I find Reindeer Games in the lounge... With a beautiful young woman. I step back a pace in surprise. She's _gorgeous_. She has long, curly raven hair, sharp green eyes, a body a goddess would envy and all the poise of a panther. And Loki, he's glaring at her like he wants to _incinerate_ her. ...Which is kind of silly because he doesn't look all that threatening in Captain America onesie Pajamas. Where the fuck did he even get those? It's hilarious, and I stifle a chuckle as he turns his venomous glare on me instead.

"Where in the name of the nine realms have you _been_?" Loki hisses, crossing his arm across his chest. I'd think he meant business, and maybe even be a little intimidated if he was wearing his space viking getup. Instead, I just laugh. It feels good, actually. I haven't laughed or even really smiled much in the past couple months after Frigga's visit. Loki just raises his eyebrows, obviously wondering if I've finally cracked.

"Where the fuck did you get Captain America pajamas? You look ridiculous. And I was at a board meeting that took all freaking day, and then a doctor's appointment. I thought we discussed this. Who's your girlfriend?" I chatter, and turn my back on them to forage through the cabinets in the kitchenette. I have a sudden, mindless craving for junk food and nothing short of Manhattan burning to the ground is going to stop me.

"I was under the impression that I would go with you for your appointment!" Loki retorts and heaves an annoyed sigh. "This is my daughter, Hela." I blink and get a better look at her. I mean, I could see the resemblance immediately, _damn._ But... Isn't she supposed to be a zombie or something? There is nothing festering that I can see – she's _beautiful._ Like, the textbook definition of the word.

"You're pretty hot for a half-dead chick who rules over the underworld. And don't take the sarcasm personally, I'm jerk to almost everyone." I quip, snatching a bag of chips and a container of chocolate frosting. Loki makes a face at the food but doesn't say a word. Either he's learned not to, or I really don't want to know what fucked up shit he ate when he was pregnant with Sleipnir.

"I know that Anthony. I am, of course, holding onto a bit of your soul." She says meaningfully and presses her fingers lightly to her chest. "Right here, in my heart."

"Hmm. Well, does that mean you're going to explain this?" I ask, somewhat sheepishly as I realize that pissing her off is probably _not_ a very good idea. Her misty green eyes meet mine and I wonder if she's not really just a female clone of Loki. I'm pretty sure he can do that. Either way, the only trait she must have inherited from her mother is the soft round curve of her face and body that's not at all like Loki's angular form.

"Well, it was not intentional. Not entirely, at any rate. What I actually did was meant to render you immortal by giving you a small portion of my magic. I honestly have no idea how this was a result of what I did, but magic often has a will of its own. Though, I suppose we could blame my father if we must. My being half Jotun may have something to do with it, as male frost giants can bear children through shapeshifting." Hela explains, and scrunches her nose in disgust when I dip a potato chip in the chocolate frosting and shove it in my mouth. I don't know what their problem is. Chocolate covered potato chips are totally a thing, and the sweet and salty combo tastes great. Well, cheap frosting isn't real chocolate, but what the hell ever. Details.

"Hold on. Render me immortal? What the shit? When did I agree to that?" I stammer, choking on the food when what she said hits home, albeit at a bit of a delay. If the horrified look on Loki's face is any indication, he had no clue either. My mind is a mess as I try to comprehend it. How could something like that happen without me noticing? What the actual fuck?

"Well, it would be cruel to demand that my father act upon his feelings for you, if you will be dead in what seems to be mere days to our kind." Hela says with a nonchalant shrug. "But that is not why I am here personally. If it was, I would have asked my grandmother to explain it. I need to return your soul to you, Man of Iron... Or the little one won't live past birth. You see, when you create a new life its soul mirrors that of its parents. But your soul is... broken, for lack of a better word. Only my father can fix that. When my grandmother told me of this, I knew I had to return your soul to you. She would not know of it, but life and death are not mysteries to me. It has just taken me some time because I was not sure _how_ to do it without having to kill you. And though I am loathe to admit it, it is my fault in the first place. I made a... mistake."

"You knew the child was in danger, and you did not tell me?!" Loki demands, each syllable dripping with horror.

"It wouldn't be until after it's born." Hela replies, rolling her eyes. "And it is an easy fix. I will give the bit of Anthony's soul I have to you, and you will return it to him. Then, there will be nothing for either of you to worry about. Nothing will change; he will still have the immortality I granted him. As for the price to do so... Well, had I known a very crucial fact at the time, I never would have needed to tamper with his soul in the first place. But, as I said, only you can do this."

"Me? How? Why? I've never dabbled in magic that tampers with life and death. ...Aside from bartering with you to save him." Loki asks, frowning. Hela glares at him as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

"Make love to him." I can't help it, I burst out laughing. It's just the way she says it, like 'do your fucking chores' or something. Loki rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath that suspiciously sounds like he's saying I act like a five year old, and how _dare_ his daughter speak to him like that. It's actually kind of adorable.

"I suppose I cannot be too angry with you. This Midgardian healer seems to have been able to get through to you where I could not. You are obnoxious, but at least you are behaving like yourself." Loki gripes and turns his attention back to Hela. "There is something you aren't telling me."

She gives him a curt nod and takes his hands in hers.

"It is not for you to know. Not yet, at least. You will understand, eventually." Hela replies with a mischievous smile that she definitely inherited from Loki. "This will feel strange, Father. You may be able to sense his emotions until you return his spirit to him." Hela explains. Loki twitches, but doesn't say a word. He closes his eyes for a moment, and a soft golden glow surrounds the pair of them. I wonder vaguely if Hela's been feeling my inner strife for the past almost five months as the glow fades. When Loki lets go of Hela's hands, he presses his own to his chest – over his heart.

"I can... Feel it." He says, frowning.

"You know what to do now. I will have to go, I have a lot to do. ...Take care of yourselves. _Both_ of you." Hela says and vanishes into thin air in a flash of green light.

"What does it feel like?" I ask Loki curiously.

"...Warm." He replies. "Shall we do this? I would rather not put it off."

"If you say so." I reply and let Loki lead to me to our room. Thank mercy the penthouse will be fully repaired by the weekend. I can't wait to have my own living space back that's more than the spare bedroom on the floor below it. ...And my windows with electronic tinting. Not being able to sleep until noon if I damn please is annoying.

The thought crosses my mind that we haven't had sex since before finding out about the pregnancy. Is this even a thing we should be doing? I guess it can't be that bad, I mean there's enough nasty prego porn out there. Though, just because somebody rule 34'd it doesn't mean it's a good idea.

"Is this... safe?" I ask sheepishly as Loki steers me to the bed and presses a cool kiss against my forehead.

"Certainly." Loki says softly and wastes no time as he's already undressing me. I let my eyelids flutter closed and fall back against the pillows once Loki slips my shirt off. He straddles my hips, and leans down to take my lips in a possessive kiss. His position is a little awkward, I can tell he's trying not to put too much weight on top of me. I feel him shift above me, as he balances on his knees. I look up at him, again feeling all kinds of uncharacteristic self-consciousness as Loki watches me while he waves his hand and his clothes vanish into thin air. Thank fuck for that. The Capsicle fanboy pajamas have _got_ to go. If I'd had a boner, they'd kill it in an instant. Don't get me wrong, I love Steve – just not _that_ kind of love.

"You will have to stop sleeping on your back soon." Loki says thoughtfully. I mostly ignore him. I'm so damn tired and all I _really_ want to do is sleep. "Anthony?"

"What?"

"We do not have to do this right now if you don't want to." Damn. Was it that obvious? It's not his fault, really. I've never felt less like having sex in my life. I guess it's probably because spending most of my time feeling like I'm hungover and wanting to pass out from exhaustion is decidedly _not_ sexy. Never mind that I don't even want to look in the mirror lately because -

"You are still attractive, you idiot. Stop being so self-depreciating. The Stark I _used_ to know is an incorrigible narcissist, and I liked him better." I blink at him in confusion. How can he possibly – Oh, right. So he really can sense what I'm feeling. I'm sure if I should be angry or not. I guess I'll just let it slide, I mean there's nothing I can do about it anyway.

"Asshole." I mumble and let my eyes slide closed.

"You don't mean that. You also are not in the mood for this at all."

"Not really."

We make eye contact and I wonder what's going on in _his_ head. I wonder if he's worried at all – probably not. He has at least two kids that I know of now, and he must have had some part in raising Hela, seeing as they obviously have some kind of relationship. There's one bright side to this mess – they probably don't have huggies in Asgard. Hopefully that means I get to laugh at Loki at least once for putting a diaper on backwards or something equally stupid. Well, not that _I_ know how to put a diaper on in the first place.

I'm startled out of my thoughts by Loki snuggling up next to me and pulling the blankets over us. He nudges me over to my side and curls up against my back. I sigh in a defeated way as he kisses the back of my neck and rests his hand on my belly.

"Hroki?" Loki mumbles, obviously trying to think of names again. I don't even think I can pronounce that one.

"Are there any female Norse names that don't sound manly?" I ask quietly and lay my hand on top of his.

"Not really." Loki replies, chuckling softly.

"Hmm. Amanda?" I suggest, already feeling myself start to drift off to sleep.

"Too common." Loki complains, and I smile a bit. I guess this is what Erin meant. Think of all the positive things, instead of dwelling on what makes me antsy. Huh, it actually _does_ help. I guess sentimental bullshit does have some merits once in a while. I will, of course, admit that thought over my dead body.

"Hilda?" Loki whispers and nuzzles his face into my hair. I snort, overcome by the domesticity of it all. We're cuddling, and trying to think of baby names for fuck's sake. ...What's next, Rock of Ages baking a cake in a pink apron? ...Not that I'd put it past him, even on a normal day.

"No. Again, way too old fashioned." I reply, stifling a yawn.

"What about..." I hesitate for a moment, feeling like a sappy moron for even thinking of it it but... "Joy?"

I can feel Loki smile from where he has his lips pressed against my shoulder. "Yes, I think that's the one." He replies approvingly.

"Great, now we need a middle name." I whine, next to positive I can't stay awake another second.

* * *

There was a time that I hated waking up next to someone, that it meant I didn't manage to sneak out by morning and leave them for Pepper to deal with. Mornings after were never my thing, and I'd do anything to avoid it. It's different now, though. I _like_ waking up with Loki stuck to me like glue. It makes me feel safe, as silly as it sounds. I don't have nightmares so much anymore. If nothing else, it feels nice – the warmth of him against me, the soft whisper of his breath against my cheek while he's still sound asleep. He's right he where he was last night – curled up against my back, using my shoulder as a pillow. I glance out the window at the city below us. It's looking like it'll be a dreary day; the sky is grey and a light drizzle seems to be constantly pattering against the glass that's slightly foggy. I close my eyes, fully intent on going back to sleep...Until someone knocks on the door.

"Hey if you're awake there's a call for you on line three." Steve. I blink sleep out of my eyes and reach for the phone on the bedside table. I'd muted it a while ago, seeing as Jarvis isn't installed to screen my calls in random guest rooms. I hesitate for a moment.

"What the hell time is it and, _who_ is calling me this damn early?" I ask. I can almost picture Steve rolling his eyes and making a face at me on the other side of the door.

"It's not early, Stark. It's nine thirty. And it's -" I can hear Steve cough in a bad attempt to cover up laughter. "Your obstetrician. Oh God, I can't believe I just said that. Sorry, it's not funny just -"

"Yes it is funny, it's okay. I mean _really_." I reply, laughing in spite of myself. It's fucking hilarious; that's what it is. Behind me, Loki comes awake with a yawn. He rolls over and stretches like a cat before giving me a sleepy smile. With some effort, I lean over and give him a kiss. Hmm. I actually feel pretty good this morning. Maybe even good enough to – Oh right, the phone. I blindly reach for the phone and wind up knocking something off the table in the process.

"Morning." I mumble sleepily into the receiver.

"Good morning Mr. Stark. Sorry for calling so early. Would you be able to come in at ten thirty?" I glance at the digital clock on the dresser. Steve's a lying bastard. It's only eight.

"Yeah, I can do that. Anything I need to bring with me other than a clingy Norse god?" I ask sarcastically.

"No, we'll see you then." Carrie says, giggling. Loki makes a soft sound of disapproval but doesn't say anything. I manage to hang the phone up without knocking anything else off the table and roll over to face Loki.

"It'll take about half an hour to get there. Figure another hour to take a decent shower and get dressed... That leaves you exactly one hour to fuck me senseless." I was going to say 'get to it', but there's already lips pressed hotly against mine and delicate fingers running themselves through my hair. I manage to gasp for breath when Loki breaks the kiss and nudges me to roll over so that my back is to him. I can already pretty much figure out what he's up to. I can't really think of any other options for positions so...

All sense of logical thought leaves me as Loki trails hot kisses along my collar bone and rubs his thumbs across my nipples. I can't help but arch into the touch with a quiet moan. I can't ever remember them being this sensitive. It feels like his touch is on fire, and it goes straight to my groin.

"It's odd." Loki mumbles and sucks on a place near the nape of my neck. "When I was with child, I felt like a bitch in heat and I could hardly control the lust. ...Yet it has the opposite effect on you." I try to dig up a snappy comment, but my mind is spiraling out of my grasp with each well-placed touch. It didn't take Loki long to learn all the sensitive places on my body, and if he wants to he can have me whimpering at his fingertips in a matter of seconds.

Still. Why is it so _intense?_ Maybe pregnancy didn't kill my libido at all. No, it was probably the depression. ...And the puking. Christ the _puking_. But that's better now. Mostly I'm just tired and a little moody lately. ...Aside from the occasional dizzy spell.

I gasp and grab a fistful of Loki's hair as he nips the skin just below my ear lightly. That's one of those weird little spots that really gets me off for some reason. He pulls my fingers loose and runs his thumb across my lower lip.

"Maybe I was wrong, you seem more responsive than usual." He says mostly to himself and trails light touches across my shoulders, down to my stomach where he rests them warmly against the sides of the now obviously rounded part. He stops, meets my eyes and places a soft kiss just above my navel. I bite my lip and am torn between wanting to cry from the intimacy of it and ravish the shit out of Loki. ...Though I decide to let him do the ravishing, because I totally believe what Erin said about not being able to get out of chairs. It _is_ getting a little awkward to move, it's like I have no sense of balance because I have no center of gravity. ...Or something. My brain isn't working nearly well enough right now to process that train of thought right now. ...Not with Loki leaning down and licking the very tip of my fully hard cock with a coy smile playing at his lips.

I let out a sigh and my eyes flutter closed as Loki returns to his place behind me. Somehow he managed to stealthily grab the bottle of the lube from the drawer in the nightstand without me noticing – I can hear him opening it. I'm silently begging him to get the hell on with it when he finally presses a slick finger against my entrance. He's being more gentle than usual, careful with every touch, and that thought as just is arousing as the touches themselves. I breathe slowly, losing myself in the sensation as he plays with my length that's throbbing with need. As Loki finally presses a finger inside of me, I eagerly lean into the touch and twist my fingers into the blankets that we cast aside. I whimper in ecstasy as he inserts a second finger, and brushes my prostate.

"I need..." My voice trails off into a husky moan and I feel my eyes roll back into my head. I feel like I could come just from this, but that just won't do.

"Tell me what you need." Loki whispers seductively, and slides a third finger in, and continually rubbing that spot that makes me mewl like a cat.

"You. Inside. _Now._ " I manage to choke out and squirm against him.

"So _eloquent_." Loki chastises me, but I couldn't care less. I just want to be full of his cock and nothing else matters in the slightest right now. I bite the inside of my cheek and hold my breath as I feel his fingers slip out of me, to be replaced almost immediately the head of his shaft. "Fast or slow?" He whispers as he slowly slides into me, only stopping when he's buried to the hilt.

"Fast." I grunt, when I manage to find my voice. I don't think I could handle it if he took me slowly, not when I'm so oversensitive. I doubt I'll last very long as it is. When Loki starts to move, I already feel the edge rushing up to meet me. He has me so well prepared that I hardly need to adjust to actually having him inside of me and it's all some kind of insane sensory overload. I'm vaguely aware of the desperate sounds I'm making – like some kind of animal in heat.

"You are... unbelievable." Loki mumbles and pounds into me with a fast, even pace. I learned early on not to underestimate his godly stamina. It's amazing (not to mention mind-blowing) how he can keep a steady rhythm for as long as he does.

It's a well-aimed thrust that hits my prostate _just right_ that does me in. I gasp something unintelligible and arch my back into Loki as the world just... _explodes_. Loki is soon to follow, riding out my orgasm as he reaches his own climax. I close my eyes and sigh contentedly as the heat of his release spreads within me. For a moment, everything in the world is right – even if I'm a panting, whimpering mess with Loki whispering soft words of endearment and running his fingers through my hair.

Something feels different, though. Like something I didn't even know was missing is back where it belongs. ...My soul, I guess? Had I even noticed it was gone? I don't know. Right now space voodoo that makes less sense than a Japanese porno is the last thing on my mind. I have no idea what Hela was even trying to explain. Honestly, I don't think Loki does either.

"Shower." I say to Loki, who slowly withdraws from me and kisses my temple.

"As you wish." He breathes and nuzzles his face against mine.

Yes, for the first time in what feels like ages, I finally think things are going to be okay.


	9. Corruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating. I hate this chapter, and it's been a battle of sorts to make it presentable. Also, possible Winter Soldier spoilers in the future (in regards to what happens inside SHIELD only, I don't trust myself to write Bucky decently.)
> 
> Also, for those who don't know yet, I've made a tumblr account just for my Avengers fanfiction - CaptainScotch. You can submit prompts and questions there if you'd like. I always need inspiration.

" _Sir, director Fury is on the line."_ I look up from a copy of _National Enquirer_ bearing the words 'Tony Stark Pregnant with Captain America's Child' with _by far_ the worse paparazzi photo of me I've ever seen. I've gotta give them some credit, though. It doesn't look shopped, and the angle that it's shot at totally makes me look all kinds of knocked up. Poor Steve. He saw it this morning, and no one's seen him since. I think he might _actually_ be trying to get drunk somewhere.

"Of course he is." I say with a sigh. "Put him through, Jarvis."

It was only a matter of time for SHIELD to come calling, really. Jarvis had told me the night after my confession to the board a week ago that at least one of them had ratted me out to the media. I'm _not_ looking forward to dealing with this. Fury means well, but he can be a total dick. ...And SHIELD, well, there's something fishy about the organization as a whole. Bruce and I have actually taken bets on how long it'll be before the whole thing blows up in Fury's face.

"Stark, I want you in my office. Now."

"Nope. We can discuss whatever this is about right now; this is a secure line. Pinky promise." I reply, immediately deciding that the last place I want to be is in SHIELD's center of command. I wouldn't put it past them to hold me against my will as a lab rat – or worse.

"Absolutely not, Stark." Fury says coolly.

"Fine, but not right now. I'll be there in a few hours." I say and motion for Jarvis to end the call, which he does. I don't answer when the AI informs me that Fury is calling me back. Instead, I look out the window of the lounge and think over the whole situation carefully. Loki's in Asgard. Thor came by to collect him yesterday because he wanted to visit his mother. I know Steve's in the tower somewhere. Natasha probably is too. She won't admit it, but I know she's never far. It's kind of adorable, really – the way she's been hovering like a big, protective momma bear. Or a panther; she's more like a cat, thinking about it.

"Jarvis, I need a team meeting ASAP – whoever's in the immediate area." I say to the AI, and struggle a bit to get out of the big, squishy leather chair in the lounge. Shit. This is getting annoying. I've got no shame, but I don't know how much more my pride can take. With an irritated sigh, I toss the shitty excuse for literature I was readingdown on the coffee table.

I kinda of feel like a moron for calling a team meeting about this, but if I _have_ to go to the Triskelion I want no part of going alone. I don't trust SHIELD. If it were just Fury, I wouldn't be worried. He's an asshole, but he's not heartless. The first person to arrive is Natasha. Of course, she's never far. She walks into the lounge wearing black yoga pants and a plain white t-shirt like she owns the place. Her scarlet hair is pulled into a pony-tail, and her feet are bare. Sometimes, it's hard to imagine her as master assassin after seeing her like this – like a normal woman.

"What's the matter, Stark?" She asks, her eyes gliding automatically to the offending gossip rag resting on the coffee table. She raises her eyebrows delicately, but doesn't comment.

"I'll explain in a moment, just... Who else is around?" I ask, frowning.

" _Mr. Rogers is on his way, Sir. ETA two minutes. Doctor Banner and Mr. Barton are currently in Washington."_ Jarvis replies, before Natasha gets the chance. Steve also manages to show up Jarvis as he bursts threw the door with a worried look on his face half a minute early.

"What's going on, Tony? Since when do you call team meetings?" I bite back a snappy comment. He's right, obviously. I usually don't. I _usually_ just go blow shit up myself, and pay for it later when they all have to come save my ass. What? I don't play well with others. I was pretty sure we established that by now. Anyway...

"Well, it's just going to be us so..." I sigh and sit in one of the chairs by table, deciding to spare myself the embarrassment of getting stuck in one of the leather armchairs. Steve and Natasha follow suit, she gives the super soldier a sympathetic glance when he cringes at the sight of the cover of the discarded magazine still on the coffee table.

"Fury wants me in his office at the Triskelion. I think it's pretty obvious what it's about. Someone on the board for Stark Industries leaked info to the media so... There's no more hiding it from the public at this point. I know this sounds dumb at best, but I don't want to go alone. No offense, Nat, but I'm pretty high on SHIELD's shit list because I won't give them my tech to make weapons with." I say, and abruptly shut my mouth when I realize I'm chattering like a squirrel, the way I do when I'm secretly nervous about something.

"It's not dumb. I'll go with you." Steve says without any hesitation. I want to hug him, really. Natasha seems to think about it for a moment, before she shakes her head mutely.

"Fury we can trust, but it's not him we need to worry about. The World Security Council must want something out of this, or else Fury would be here on your doorstep – not demanding for you to personally go to headquarters. That is, even he even cared about it with everything else that's going on in SHIELD right now. I think It would be best if you didn't go until we know their intentions." Natasha tells me with a frown. "Though, we may _never_ know their true intentions and they'll probably come for you if don't show up. This _is_ SHIELD, we're talking about."

"What if we invited Fury to come here and come up with some kind of excuse that Tony's health is too poor for him to leave right now?" Steve suggests. I barely manage to restrain a snarky comment about being treated like some kind of kind of pathetic damsel in distress – then I remember that I kind of _am._ It was me, after all, that called this meeting because I'm too much of a pussy to face down SHIELD alone. But it's not just me I'm worried about. What if they deport Loki back to Asgard somehow? Or worse, demand that I hand Joy over to them to be a lab rat once she's born? No. I can't even think about that right now. Of course, I'm probably being paranoid but I can't afford to take idiotic risks – for my daughter's sake (if nothing else), I need to at least _try_ to exercise some amount of caution.

Holy shit. _Me_? Exercising caution? ...There's a fucking blizzard brewing in hell right now.

"It's a long shot, but that might work." Natasha says in agreement. "I'll call him. Leave this to me. If it's not good enough, well, we will just have to go with him and hope for the best." Steve and I watch with identical expressions of uncertainty as Natasha leaves the room. The three of us escaping SHIELD on lock-down? Not good odds. Natasha probably could. Steve too, just not stealthy – He'd have to dive out a window or something. My odds, on the other hand, aren't so good considering there's not the slightest hope of fitting into one of my suits.

Steve and I sit in a tense silence while we wait for Natasha. I fidget uncomfortably and absently pull at the cuffs of my halfway unbuttoned white dress shirt. I had to sit through a board meeting earlier and didn't bother changing into something else. I just threw my blazer over the back of a chair and plopped down in front of the TV. I wasn't feeling up to much else, honestly. It's not like I'm allowed in my workshop anyway. Granted, I could easily bypass Jarvis' security protocols and go down there regardless, but it's not worth it. I'm too preoccupied to actually accomplish anything noteworthy.

Both Steve and I jump a little bit when Natasha comes back into the room looking ready to spit venom like a pissed off cobra.

"Well?" I ask, trying for nonchalance but missing the mark by a mile.

"Fury's going to meet us here in about half an hour, he's actually here in New York. He's livid. He thinks the call you received was fake – pieced together with recordings." Natasha tells us and gracefully takes a seat in the empty chair next to Steve. "Where's Pepper?"

"Pepper?" I say with a frown. "Probably downstairs in her office. Why?"

Recordings? But the call must have actually come from Fury's office in the Triskelion or Jarvis would have told me that it was from an unusual location... He should have picked up on altered audio recordings as well.

"Because if you want to keep that kid, and yourself, out of SHIELD's hands, you're going to have to drown them in paperwork. If there's anyone who has a shot at kicking SHIELD's ass in a legal case, it's Pepper. And Tony, Fury's on your side so don't be a dick." Natasha elaborated.

The look on Steve's face is something between horror and rage, which is definitely what I'm feeling though I'm pretty sure I'm just staring at Natasha with wide eyes and a slack jaw. I clear my throat and try to reign in the panic for the time being.

"Jarvis, call Pepper and tell her to get up here yesterday. Tell her to bring - " I say and stop in the middle of the sentence. Was that...? Oh. _Oh God._ I grip the edge of the counter and try to remember how to breathe.

" _Sir?"_ Jarvis inquires and the other two look at me with concern.

"...Her laptop?" I say, though it sounds a bit like a question.

" _Will do, Sir._ " The AI replies.

"Everything alright, Tony?" Steve asks, and Natasha watches me through narrow eyes.

"I... The baby, she moved." I say, next to positive my face is as red as tomato. Just like Erin said, it feels kind of... fluttery. It's weird, but it doesn't hurt. I run my fingers through my hair and try to keep my face impassive as the last shred of denial vanishes. This is _real_. It's actually a thing. It's not that I didn't believe it up until now or anything, but feeling her move is... Suddenly, the gravity of it all is crashing down on me and I'll be damned if anyone thinks they can take this child from me. I'm _really_ going to be a fath – mother. Jesus Christ. I hope the little monster doesn't call me Mom. I don't know if I can handle that.

Natasha visibly relaxes and shakes her head; obviously she thought something was wrong with me.

"So, did you decide on a name yet?" Steve asks in a combination of both honest curiosity and an attempt to shake me out of the sort of trance I've fallen into. I blink a couple times and look away awkwardly as I answer.

"Joy." I say quietly.

"That's... Kind of adorable." Natasha says and giggles. My face is beet red; it has to be. I don't think I've blushed like this since I was fourteen and asking a girl out for the first time.

Pepper must have gotten the memo, because she comes rushing into the lounge clutching a laptop and panting for breath. I've got to give her some credit, that _has_ to be a new record. She had to ditch a shareholder meeting on the tenth floor, and _still_ managed to make it up here in under two minutes. She's got to be some kind of goddess of corporate affairs or something. Seriously, underling cubicle workers should pray to her for divine guidance.

"Pepper, they -"

"I'll handle this. Go." Natasha says and points at the elevator. I raise my eyebrows and glare at her. Seriously? What the fuck? "You're supposed to be avoiding stress."

Really? Is she kidding? Well, two can play at that game...

"Mewling quim." I mutter and step into the elevator just as Natasha's eyes narrow and she glares at me like she's about to kick me in the balls for all she's worth. Steve coughs to cover up a bark of laughter and Pepper just rolls her eyes. Pity Loki's not around, he'd probably be laughing hysterically at the look on Natasha's face.

* * *

Alone in the penthouse (that's _finally_ rebuilt to be exactly as it was before), I curl up on the couch with a tablet and a mug of hot chocolate. I'm asleep within minutes. It never fails. I'm tired all the time anymore, but apparently that's normal. It could be worse; at least it seems like the morning sickness is a thing of the past.

When I wake up a couple hours later, there's a pair of emerald green eyes inches from mine. That probably would have scared the shit out of me, but I'm pretty used to waking up to Loki watching me sleep now – and fuck knows what else. I smile sleepily at him and yawn. Loki just shakes his head and flops down on the couch next me. Sometimes, there isn't really a need for words between us. It's scary how we can communicate relatively effectively without saying a single thing.

...I wonder if he knows about SHIELD.

"Your secretary is like a bilgesnipe on a warpath." Loki says as if he can read my mind. ...What the fuck is a bilgesnipe? "Worry not."

"Yeah, but SHIELD is -"

"...Laughably unprepared to face Asgard as an adversary. Any attempt to hold you, me or our child without our explicit consent will be treated as an act of war by the Aesir." Loki says, in a bored tone of voice.

"You knew." I say, frowning. Had they tried to contact me before? That couldn't be right; Jarvis would have caught them snooping, unless they bypassed my security protocols somehow. I suppose it's possible, though. Still, I'll pay that _Vanity Fair_ reporter that kept winding up in my bed child support for a kid she doesn't even have before I admit that there _might_ be a flaw in my system.

"Not until I returned. Neither does Odin, but he doesn't need to know. I don't wanthim to know about our child." Loki explains, shrugging off his leather coat and resting his head against my shoulder. "I will protect you." He whispers.

Huh. Sneaky bastard. So it was all bullshit. I probably should have seen that coming, and with Pepper to back it up legally there's not much to worry about. Maybe. I want to know what was said in that meeting, but there probably isn't any surveillance footage, Natasha would have disabled it. Either way, it's what's unsaid that matters – it's only a temporary fix. Eventually they'll figure it out.

"So. I called Natasha a 'mewling quim', and my genitalia is still intact. I'll call that a win. How was space?" I chatter, as Loki settles into the couch beside me. He smirks and slips his hand into mine, before resting his head on my shoulder.

"Oh, but you are _so_ brave, my love." Loki replies in amusement. "I suppose that would be why she kicked me under the table for no good reason. I actually wanted to speak with my mother. Hela purposely didn't tell me something about the magic behind all of this. I assumed, correctly I might add, that she _did_ tell my mother."

"So what was it, Buttercup?" I ask, feeling sleepy and warm with him pressed against me. It might sound strange, but I really like the way Loki smells – like woodsmoke and cold winter air. If that's even a proper way to describe a fragrance. Like hell if I know.

"She wouldn't tell me, but judging by the way she dissolved into a fit of very un-queenly giggling, I assume it has something to do with sex. Or something equally amusing." Loki complains irritably. "Alas no, she just told me that we would have to figure it out on our own. Though, it is apparently quite _funny_ that we haven't already. Really, I am quite tired of the dramatics."

I'm about to make a _totally_ mature comment about soul mates or some shit when, the bell for the elevator rings and Natasha steps out with Fury behind her. The old prune looks about the same as he always has – needlessly dramatic leather trench coat, permanently etched scowl and (of course), the trademark eye patch. Natasha looks a little irritable, maybe. I don't know, even knowing her she's a hard read. She's still in her work-out clothes with no shoes on. I have no idea why, but that's fucking hilarious. Then again, she doesn't exactly need weapons to kick my ass. Maybe I'll keep my comments about how silly she looks to myself. I'm not really in the mood to be permanently emasculated.

"This is one hell of a mess you've gotten yourself into, Stark. I should say I'm surprised, but somehow I'm not." Fury comments and takes a seat on the empty loveseat across from Loki and I. Loki's still snuggled up to me with his head on my shoulder; if I had to guess, I'd assume that he's comfortable that way and can't be bothered to move.

"Yeah, I'd call it a mess all right. So does anyone want to enlighten me as to what the fuck is actually going on?" I ask and give Fury my best attempt at an intimidating glare that's rendered useless in context – meaning me being wrapped up in an Iron Man printed fleece blanket with an oddly possessive demi-god snuggled up to me. It's kind of hilarious how he doesn't give a rat's ass that Fury's giving him this disgusted glare, and acts like the guy isn't even in the room.

"It's a long story, but SHIELD's been compromised – that's the part that matters." Natasha says, a touch of anger in her voice. "I guess I traded in the KGB for Hydra. At least we can talk about it here without the moles finding out."

"...Hydra?" I ask, my voice a little more high pitched than I'd like it to be. Steve's got to having a canary, and an ulcer. I can't help but think of the crates of hydra weapons that he found on the helicarrier while I was busy hacking their systems. I hadn't believed Fury's excuses then, and I sure as hell don't now. "How long have you known?"

"Since I found out about the phase-two weapons development that the science department was working on. So, a little bit before Loki showed up and destroyed the base. I didn't have a choice but to go along with it. God only knows what those motherfuckers would do if they find out I know. The worst part is that it's SHIELD's own fault for employing Hydra's scientists after the war. I'll admit that it's beyond me why they care if you went and got knocked up by an alien, though. I mean, they're working on some big shit; this is nothing." Fury explained, well, _furiously._

"I could have a guess at that, actually." I say and sigh heavily. "They couldn't replicate Erskine's serum, but they know about the Aesir and their super strength. Maybe they see this is some kind of fucked up option for breeding a superior race?"

"Damn." Fury mutters. "Probably." Natasha makes a small sound of assent and tries to hide her disgust. Loki just stays silent, but I can feel the way he tenses slightly beside me.

"They would want _Thor_ for that." Loki says finally, with a hint of self loathing. It's obvious to me, but I doubt that Fury and Natasha would notice. "Jotun physiology would not suit their idea of a perfect race. It could not be more different, nor is this a normal occurrence. Doctor Banner said without magic interfering, our two species would be incomparable in genetic terms."

"You talking about the smurf thing?" I ask with a frown. There was a battle about a week after the nightmare with the Chitauri that had forced Loki to revert to his 'true nature'. It wasn't pretty – what happened to the doombots swarming Manhattan. Loki, on the other hand, I kind of wished I'd gotten a better look at. All I can really remember is blue skin, red eyes and an entire city block nearly covered in ice that took a month to melt. I'd mentioned it once, and Loki hadn't spoken to me for days. This is the most he's touched the subject of his actual appearance in the entire time he's been on earth, as far as I know anyway.

"...Yes." Loki replies flatly. "That is what I _really_ look like."

"Yeah, I'd say that's not what Hydra's going for. Though, they probably don't know any better." Natasha comments with a snort. "But they probably don't know that, or the fact that this isn't an ordinary occurrence."

"Actually, they probably do. Johann Schmidt was _obsessed_ with Mythology. Don't underestimate Hydra; they are SHIELD." Fury replies bitterly.

"Just how far gone is SHIELD, exactly?" I ask, dreading the answer. Fury gives me this all-suffering look, and it answers the question long before he does.

"I'm not sure if it can be saved." The director says flatly. "That's why, I'm officially cutting the Avenger's ties with SHIELD – you're on your own now. A separate entity. Trust no one. It should buy you some time before the shit hits the fan. Look, everything we've discussed – you know nothing. If there's any way you can stop Hydra, I make sure you know. Until then, I'll keep them off your tail as best I can."

"That'll have to do." Natasha tells him in a flat tone, but it's obvious that she's seething with barely suppressed rage under her calm exterior. "Steve and I will look into the other thing. Good luck with your... Absolutely masochistic plans."

I know better than to ask what they aren't telling me. They won't, and not even an entire bottle of Vodka will make Natasha talk if she doesn't want to. I probably don't even want to know, all things considered. Unless it effects me, I really couldn't give a shit less about SHIELD's drama right now.

Natasha, Loki and I watch wordlessly as Fury finally leaves. Why do I have the worst feeling that everything's going to pot? ...And I won't be able to do a damn thing other than sit in the tower and cheer the others on from the sidelines. This can't be over soon enough. I can't stand feeling useless. _Being_ useless.


	10. Soul Mates

"You seem out of sorts." Loki says to me a quiet tone, after Natasha mutters something about calling in dinner and stalks out of the penthouse. ...I have a feeling she might have actually crawled into the air ducts to eavesdrop – barefoot and still in her gym clothes. Yeah, Nat would do that. In a heartbeat.

"Do you feel well?" Loki nags at me when I don't answer right away.

"I'm just tired, Bambi." I tell Loki, sounding kind of subdued and give him my best fake smile. He can see through it, he always does. "...I need to go to the workshop; I have some hacking to do."

"Hacking?"

"...Meaning breaking into SHIELD's secure network. Nat and Clint might trust Fury, but I don't. I want to see the facts and decide what's going on for myself. I can't kick ass with the rest of you at the moment, but I am you're best bet for getting good intelligence since we can't exactly spy on a spy agency without getting caught." I explain, trying not to use any technical terms. It's not that Loki doesn't understand technology, because he does – remarkably well. He probably knows what a firewall does, but he wouldn't recognize the word. Those sort of things that are culture specific apparently don't translate into the All-Speak. ...Or so I've assumed.

"Hmm. It's a suitable task for you, but you seem depressed again." The demi-god presses and runs his fingers through my hair. I snatch his long, seemingly delicate fingers and glare at him in mock annoyance.

"I am, a little bit. Not like before, though. Hey... Do you want to -?" I shiver a bit, and unconsciously cuddle closer to Loki as that strange new fluttering in my gut catches me completely off-guard – again.

"What? Are you all right?" I chuckle to myself and shake my head.

"I will never get used to that feeling." I say enigmatically and can't help but smile a bit. Loki looks at me curiously, but it only takes him a moment to figure out what I'm talking about. He laughs quietly to himself and kisses my forehead softly. It still takes me by surprise sometimes – how gentle he can be. I mean, we're talking about a guy (that kind of looks like a girl sometimes), who can snap someone's neck without batting an eyelash – and laugh about it later over a tankard of mead. Yet, when it comes to me, there's only soft touches and whispered endearments. Well, mostly. There's three dangerous little words that both of us, I think, are terrified to say.

I love you, Loki.

How hard would that be? It's damn hard, that's the answer. I want to say it – it's right on the tip of my tongue, but what if he doesn't really feel the same way? I know I'm just being a clingy, emotional shithead because of the pregnancy, but I think I'd really fall apart if he left me. I'm in trouble aren't I? Tony fucking playboy Stark, in a committed relationship that neither party has the balls to acknowledge? Yep, I'm screwed. Hormones are only a good excuse if you're _not_ trying to hide behind a carefully constructed veil of denial.

"Is something wrong, Anthony?" Loki asks, watching me like a hawk. "Other than the current crisis, I suppose."

"Loki, let's go shopping." I say suddenly. It's only a little after five. There's plenty of time to hit Kohl's and look at Baby clothes. I need distraction, that's my problem. This should do it just fine. We need to come up with something for the nursery, too. I'll just use Pepper's old room here in the penthouse for now. Eventually, I guess, Joy will have her own floor.

* * *

So that's how I wound up in Kohl's with a cup of decaf Starbucks and a shopping cart overflowing with disgustingly adorable little dresses and shit. When she's a little older, I guess I'll hand Joy over to my personal tailor. Rich is a visionary when it comes to fashion, she'll look like the (half?) Goddess she is when he's done with her. Still, it's sappy and ridiculous, but this stuff is adorable.

"Our daughter needs to possess this." Loki says, coming back from the other side of a clothes rack. There's a group of young women nearby giggling at us, but I can't seem to be bothered. If nothing else, this little stunt will stop all the speculation about poor Steve being the father – going by the pretentious amount of random touching and making out Loki and I have been doing. ...Mostly because Loki's just as much of an ass as I am, and the public's reactions are hilarious. I nearly piss myself laughing when Loki shows me what he found – an Iron Man onesie. It even has a hood that looks my helmet. I'm sure it's for baby boys, but what the hell.

"That comes with us." I agree and add it to the pile. "So does this." I say and toss a little felt hat that looks like Loki's horny helmet at his head. He snatches it out of the air, we both fall into hysterics like a couple of teenagers. It's just too much. I know Loki's kind of considered an Avenger after all that he's done, but it's kind of sobering for him to see an action figure of himself next mine and Captain America's. It's silly, but I think this insane little shopping excursion might be doing more good for him than me.

Either way, the only way the whole thing could be more epic would be if we were in costume. It really is a damn pity I can't fit into a suit, even just for shits and giggles.

"How about this?" Loki suggests holding up a lacy green and black dress that's so frilly it looks it should be on some kind of doll. I just shrug and he throws it in the cart.

"I think that's probably enough." I tell him, chuckling. "She'll outgrow most of this before she ever gets to wear it."

"Probably." Loki agrees, and we can't help but snicker when the cashier rings us up – she's fighting back laughter the entire time. I can't wait to read the news and check up on Tumblr later. It might be some of the most memorable headlines of my life, and it won't even involve booze and Las Vegas hookers.

I am such a terrible role model – we both are. Thank God Steve's basically adopted this kid as his unofficial niece, because only Captain Chastity himself can save little Joy from being _entirely_ corrupted by us. There's Thor too, obviously. ...Hopefully Joy doesn't get kicked out of preschool for singing rude Asgardian drinking songs during recess.

...I am so screwed.

* * *

Another six weeks later, the nursery is completed – taken care of by one of the best decorators in New York, of course. I'd have liked to have done it myself, but Bruce and Erin would both murder if I'd been accidentally inhaling paint fumes or, _God fucking forbid,_ touching power tools. ...Not that I'm any way feeling up to doing much of anything.

Thinking of Erin, Today's the seven month check-up. Holy shit. Honestly, I'm glad it's almost over one way or another, because we've ran into a rather nasty unforeseen complication – meaning the arc reactor. Apparently it's normal enough to have some trouble breathing at this point, but it's worse when half of your chest cavity was cut out to fit the world's most badass batteries. ...Never mind the shrapnel. Bruce swore on his life that it won't move, but I keep having nightmares that it _does_ and...

I shake my head and stare vacantly out the window of the penthouse lounge, at Manhattan below me. Loki is out somewhere with Steve, kicking ass and taking names. Hydra, obviously. Mostly they've managed to stay below the radar. They've gotten pretty smart after all the years of acting like nasty little parasites inside SHIELD. ...Not smarter than me, though. They'll have to do a lot better to keep me out of their 'secure' servers. So far, I've managed to track everything they've been up to and the Avengers have been able to sabotage their plans so far. At least I'm still good for something, even though I'd rather be out there fighting. Something big is brewing though, I can feel it.

I sigh irritably and keep staring out the window, as if I'll catch a glimpse of Steve or Loki. I won't though, they're in Queens. I have no idea where the hell Nat and Clint are, they were going to try and salvage some of SHIELD's private personnel data from Hydra's filthy hands while they're (hopefully) distracted by Loki and Steve. Bruce, I know, is halfway to Calcutta by now – back to his proper schedule now that I have Erin to make sure I don't kill myself somehow. Thor... He's in fairyland I guess, which leaves me here alone with Pepper. The others all have this annoying agreement that I can't be alone – period. Well, since I've started with the newest trend of BS, meaning being able to breathe about as well as a chain smoker with asthma. I'm more or less confined to bed rest, which is driving me completely insane.

I hate my life. This fucking kid had better love the shit out of me.

"Are you feeling all right, Tony?" I glance over at Pepper and struggle for a moment to find a more comfortable position in the big leather armchair. In reality, I kind of want to go lie down and try to sleep, but I'm stuck in the fucking chair and the last thing I want to do is admit it. Pepper's watching me intently over the top of the day's copy of the _Wall Street Journal._ We haven't talked much in that last few months outside of business, so it's a little awkward being alone like this again. I'm glad for her company, though. ...And that she's apparently not going to disown me over this whole mess.

"Honestly, Pep, I feel shit. There's not a whole to do about it though, except hope the next couple months go by fast." I tell her offhandedly. Maybe.

"You're scared." She observes, raising her eyebrows. "I can tell."

And that's Pepper for you, disgustingly perceptive and almost always right. "Yeah." I say in a carefully bored tone, if only because I know there's no point in denying it.

"It'll be all right, you've survived worse. And you can't be that down in the dumps – I saw that three thousand dollar charge from Kohl's when I went over your accounts. Is Joy going to have a different outfit for every day until she's like twelve?" Pepper replies, giggling. I snort and shake my head.

"Your appointment's in ten, we should get going." Pepper says and tosses her newspaper aside. She gets up with a stretch and gives me an odd look as I swear vehemently under my breath.

"Yeah, ok." I grab the arm-rests of the chair and try to get enough leverage to haul myself up. It fails, like the first five attempts. "Fuck."

"Are you... Are you stuck?" Pepper asks, unable to keep herself from laughing.

"Yep." I tell her, pretty sure my face is as red as a tomato. _You little shit,_ I add mentally to Joy who picks that moment to start squirming. Little monster's probably already on Pepper's side. I never had a chance. "Look just give me your hands and – damn it all, fuck me!"

It takes a bit of effort, but Pepper manages to pull me out of the chair. I'll have to remember to stay out of them, or a pillow under my ass or _something_. It wouldn't be so bad if my back weren't killing me from the extra weight I'm dragging around. My body just isn't built for this, obviously. Jesus Christ I look like a whale. At least I can avoid the paparazzi, since Erin's meeting me on the medical floor here instead of her office – like the last couple appointments. It's just easier for both of us that way, and she gets to play with all the new toys.

" _Sir, Doctor Martin is waiting for you."_ Jarvis informs us, just as get into the elevator. Of course she is, the woman is almost as punctual as Pepper and it's maddening. No wonder they've gotten along so well.

"Is there anything you need done while I wait?" Pepper asks, as she gives Erin a smile when we step out of the elevator.

"No, not really. Unless you can find me decaf coffee that actually tastes like coffee... Or put the decaf in the caffeinated canister, you know, for the placebo effect." I tell her sarcastically. Her lips twitch into a smirk and she mutters something that sounds suspiciously like 'stop whining'.

"I'll be in the lounge if you need me, I have to check up with the board about the shareholder meeting next week." Pepper tells me and hops back into the elevator. Why she bothered to follow me up here is beyond me. She probably figures I can't waddle out of the elevator car fast enough before it shuts me back in or something. Ugh.

"Afternoon, Doc." I say and give Erin a nod. I take one look at the exam table, and contemplate plopping myself down into the chair next to her instead. I end up using the chair to shove myself up there, and I've got to give Erin some serious credit for not laughing at me. She's barely managing it, though. There's tears in her eyes and she's chewing on her lip.

"How have you been feeling? How's the breathing?" She asks, masking her amusement with very real concern.

"Not great." I say truthfully, not that lying would do any good. I'm panting from the effort it took to get onto the exam table and the words sound a little wheezy.

"Hmm. That's not good." Erin says, shaking her head. "Nothing to panic over, though. Judging by the rate she's growing at, you should make it to term without it becoming a real risk to your health. Though, I agree with Bruce. Mostly staying on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy is the best bet. We can still do an emergency c-section if we have to, but I'd rather not for your sake. That's going to take twice as long to recover from."

I groan and swear under my breath before she even finishes the sentence. I don't know what good it would do to argue, I pretty much can't physically do anything anyway. I guess I'm just going stir-crazy. Next thing you know, Someone's going to catch me reading Shakespeare or something. I'm _that_ bored.

"There is something else, thinking of that." Erin says thoughtfully as she flicks through hologram projections of the previous sonograms that she pulled up. She stops on the one from the fourth month and compares it to the sixth month. "I _think_ , you might go into labor at any time now, actually. I'm not sure if it has to do with whatever Loki's genetic make-up is, but she is growing just slightly faster than a normal human fetus. I noticed it a while ago, but I wanted to be sure before I brought it up."

"Jesus." I mutter. "Actually, that's fine because I've totally had it with this." Erin just laughs and pats me on the shoulder in a comforting manner.

"I can't be sure the exact date, that's hard to predict even with humans. I suspect you've got until the the end of the month, tops. Realistically, I'm going to take an educated guess and say you'll be a parent by the end of the week." She tells me with a warm smile.

"Shit, I should really look up how to change diapers shouldn't I?" I mumble, trying not to panic.

"I could tell you everything you'd need to know but we both know you won't remember half of it right now." Erin says jokingly. "I already had this whole conversation with Loki, discuss it with him – he's raised two children by himself. I'm fairly confident that he knows what he's doing."

"At least one of us does." I grumble.

"You'll do fine, Tony." She reassures me gently. "Now, let's do this one last sonogram, and I'll cut you loose for the day."

* * *

When I finally escape being tormented by Erin, Jarvis informs me that Loki is back and waiting for me in the penthouse. He's sitting on the couch, with a look on his face that could give that grumpy cat meme a run for it's money. It's obvious why, though. Steve is holding an ice pack against a nasty burn that takes up the better part of his left shoulder and halfway down his back. He winces a bit when Steve adjusts it, but I can see that it's healing already. The skin's even a little blue where the ice was touching it. I try not to gag as I get a closer look. It's gross, and has to hurt like a bitch, but at least it'll probably be healed by the end of the hour.

"Get into a fight with a dragon?" I ask casually, and carefully lower myself into the couch next to him.

"No. Some sort of... flying landmine." Loki says and hisses as Steve accidentally puts a little too much pressure on it.

"That's actually a pretty good way of describing it." Steve says with a shrug. "Looks like you heal almost as fast as I do."

Steve looks banged up too, but not like Loki. I'm scared to ask, but I'm pretty sure the only way Loki would take a hit like that was to protect another team member. He must have covered Steve. He'll admit it over his dead body, but it really is Loki's first reaction in a crisis to protect the rest of us.

"How was your appointment with Lady Erin?" Loki asks, swatting Steve's hands away and holding the cold compress himself.

"Well... She says it could be any time now, that she's growing just slightly faster than an ordinary baby." I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

"Seven months... Is normal for a Jotun child. Yes." Loki says thoughtfully. "Hela was born at seven months and one week, Sleipnir at just shy of seven months."

"Um, I'm going to go get a hold of Fury and get the debriefing over with. Let me know if you need anything." Steve says, and leaves us alone – more like runs away while he can. Loki leans over and rests his head on my shoulder with a tired sigh. Joy decides she's in the mood to kick something, and I kind of just want to escape both of them.

"I need a shower. I am covered in filth." Loki complains. "Join me?"

"You don't need to ask that twice." I quip and let him lead me to the bathroom. I'm more thankful than ever that I have a huge shower; we both fit comfortably and the hot water feels amazing on my sore back. Loki's burns have already healed into new, pinkish skin and the heat doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He presses himself against my back, and I brace myself with my hands against the wall, and his lying on top of mine. That's when I notice something I've never seen before – a slightly darker patch of skin on Loki's right hand, just below his index finger, and ending near the joint to his thumb. It's kind of triangular shaped, and absolutely identical to a birthmark on my own right hand. In fact, my mom tried to scrub it off once when I was kid. She though my hand was dirty.

"Has that always been there?" I ask, running my thumb across the mark.

"Hmm? Yes. It's a birthmark, I suppose. It's harder to see in my jotun form, but it appears then too – no matter what form I take, actually." Loki answers. I just lay my hand on top of his. He stares at it for a moment. "Oh." He says, when he notices it.

"Weird, huh?"

"That's... So this is... You're my..." Loki's voice trails off and he bursts into a helpless fit of laughter. "Hela, you _bitch._ She could have just _told_ me." He says, shaking his head once he's composed himself.

"...What?" I ask.

"There's an old legend that says when two people are soul mates – two parts of a whole spirit, they have some kind of identifying mark. I never knew that it was true; most people don't meet their true soul mate. Though, the way magic functions would suggest that it is a viable concept. Hela must have seen that _after_ she switched her soul with yours to save you. I understand how she returned it now. It all makes sense. I am such an imbecile for not realizing it." Loki explains, chuckling.

"Okay. Soul mates. That's fifty shades of fucked up. How'd I get pregnant?"

"Hela did that, by mistake. It's just the way her magic manifested within you. But if you really are my soul mate, that would be what made it possible." Loki tells me, and places a kiss against my temple. "Enough of this, trying to explain magic to a scientist is like explaining how an orgasm feels to virgin – utterly impossible."

I can't help but laugh at the comparison as we step out of the shower and Loki wraps a towel around my shoulders. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and cringe. God I am _fat_. And I have stretch lines! Urgh. What part of this is beautiful and sexy, exactly? Because I am _not_ seeing it.


End file.
